


Awesome Pancakes

by AWESOMEPANCAKES (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bad French, Get It Out Of My House, I'm literally just posting this so I can orphan it lol BYE, M/M, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Really Bad German, gratuitous use of google translate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-11 17:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 47
Words: 41,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/AWESOMEPANCAKES
Summary: Prussia/Canada, written by a fifteen-to-sixteen-year-old over the course of a year.As of the time of this posting, this fic is seven years old. The original posting on Wattpad has been deleted. (I'm still convinced that this fic isthefic that made PruCan get as big as it did, so I'm archiving it rather than deleting it from existence. You're welcome.)





	1. Prologue: An Almost Fresh Start

__  


* * *

 

_Prussia._

_A once-great empire._

_The self-proclaimed definition of awesomeness._

_Alone._

_Cast out by his younger brother, unwanted by his former allies, untrusted or despised by nearly every other country in Europe._

_Effectively fired as a country._

_Gilbert Beilschmidt stands at the crest of the hill, his head bent to keep the chill wind out of his face, his hair dripping wet from the half-rain, half-snow falling from the clouds. Gilbird sits on his left shoulder, hunched down to keep from blowing away, his yellow feathers just as wet as his master's hair._

_"I can't believe my awesome self get reduced to this position," Prussia grumbles._

_"Peeyo," his feathered companion replies._

_Trudging slowly down the slope of the hill, Gilbert keeps complaining to himself. "I mean, I'm just so awesome. How can anyone not want to be around me? Maybe they all just couldn't stand feeling un-awesome in comparison._ _Gott verdammt West... Gott verdammt Russia... Gott verdammt Austria... Gott verdammt Hungary..._ _Gott verdammt..." Prussia trails off, not knowing who else to list, then settles on, "Gott verdammt_ everybody _!"_

_Gilbird's response to Prussia's rant is merely to grumpily repeat "Peeyo" again._

_"And I can't believe I'm coming here for a place to stay," Gilbert adds irately. "It's cold and icy and not awesome at all." Then he pauses. "He has pancakes and maple syrup, though. And pancakes with maple syrup are almost as awesome as me."_

_After walking for several minutes in silence, Prussia reaches the door to the house he's been looking for, and puts on a smirk before knocking twice._

_His smirk never falters as there's the quiet, barely-audible call of, 'I'll be right there!' accompanied by hurried footsteps, and the door is gently pushed open from the other side._

_Matthew blinks in surprise. "Prussia?" he asks, his voice a near-whisper._

_Gilbert's smirk stretches wider. "Hey, Canada, do you have any pancakes for the awesome me?"_


	2. Maple (BEGIN PART 1)

I'm startled out of my reading when someone knocks loudly on the door.

"I'll be right there!" I shout, marking my book quickly, tossing it on the end table next to the sofa, and hurrying the few yards to the front door, throwing it open forcefully.

Standing there, looking like a total mess, is Germany's older brother, his white coloring making him almost melt into the pale gray background of sky.

"Prussia?" I ask, startled.

The albino country standing at my doorstep smirks wider, his startlingly crimson eyes holding an amount of cockiness that shouldn't be possible.

"Hey, Canada, do you have any pancakes for the awesome me?"

' _Why did I not expect that kind of comment_ ,' I think to myself, then open the door and step out of his way, hugging my soft, red sweatshirt around myself. He strides in confidently.

"I can make some," I reply sheepishly, then add, "Hang your coat," as I gesture to the coat rack on the wall and close the door. Then I walk down the hall to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of maple syrup off the shelf and putting it in the middle of the table as I enter.

You just can't have pancakes without maple syrup...

Grabbing things from around the kitchen, I glance over my shoulder and see that Prussia has followed me and has already settled himself at my kitchen table. He's sopping wet, the white shirt he's wearing turning see-through around the collar because of the water dripping from his hair. That bright yellow bird of his is sitting in a puddle on the table.

Frowning, I pull a dishtowel out of a drawer next to the oven and toss it at Prussia's head.

"Don't get the table all wet," I tell him, noticing that he dries off his bird immediately. I turn around and go back to the pancakes, not wanting to seem creepy for watching him.

As I start to make the pancakes, I can hear Prussia muttering to himself in German, and his bird chirping something like "Peeyo". Then I realize I haven't asked the most important question yet.

"How many do you want?" I ask, looking over and thinking that if I just go along with it, he'll leave.

He meets my eyes briefly, then starts toweling his wet hair. "A few."

I sigh and just decide to give him four and keep making them until he says he's full.

He ends up scarfing down something like twelve. Hardly a few, but I know if I try to complain I'll just chicken out.

"Ah," Prussia sighs, leaning back dangerously in the chair and making me worry he'll break something, the chair or himself, but something for sure. "Pancakes are awesome. Almost as awesome as I am."

"Peeyo!" His bird is sitting on the rim of his plate and pecking at syrupy crumbs.

"Don't lean back on your chair like that," I mumble, but he doesn't seem to notice. I turn away, knowing it's futile to persist in my request.

Then he says something completely unexpected.

"I got kicked out."

My _brilliant_ response – note the sarcasm – is to whirl around and exclaim, "Eh!?"

He's resting his elbows on the table and has his head leant against his hands. His bird is sitting on his shoulder, next to the towel which is still hanging around his neck. I go around and sit across from him, noting an almost glum expression on his features.

"Gott verdammt bruder," he grumbles. "Kicking out the awesome me..."

"But _why_ did you get kicked out?" I ask, genuinely confused. Why would someone just abandon a family member?

But, Prussia ignores my question and just declares, "So I'm going to stay here!"

My jaw drops, and I blink in shock. Then I paste a false, too-sweet smile on my face and reply with, "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you right... What was that?"

"I'm going to stay here, duh. You should be honored to have my awesome self living here!" His miniature rant is punctuated by him slamming his fist on the table, making his fork jangle against his plate and making me wince.

"Well, it's really cold during the winter..." I murmur, hanging my head. I have to try to convince him it's not a good idea.

"Can't be as bad as in Russia!"

"And the laws are sometimes really strict..."

"I'll bet they were worse in WWII Germany."

"There are wild animals..."

"Kesesesese~! I'm awesome! What animal would attack _me_!?"

I look up to see him grinning like he's already figured everything out. I open my mouth to tell him no, but I'm not entirely surprised to hear myself say, "Okay."


	3. Oresama

A grin stretches over my features as I shoot down the last of Canada's quiet, pointless reasons against my staying here.

' _Silly little country_ ~ _you don_ ' _t refuse the awesome me_!'

Then he looks up, and quietly whispers, "Okay."

One corner of my mouth stretches wider to turn my expression into a smug smirk. I knew he'd let me stay.

"Great!" I exclaim. Canada's expression looks a bit pained and like he maybe wants to take it back, but I shrug it off. He'll get used to having me around. Now I move on to more important issues. "Do I get a room or do I get the couch?"

Canada thinks for a moment before saying, "There's a spare bedroom over at the south side of the house, if you like. It's kind of small, but..."

I'm interrupted from my attempt to answer as Gilbird falls off the table, somehow covered in syrup and unable to fly.

"Sheiβe," I curse in a hiss, leaning down to scoop him off the floor. Sitting more-or-less properly in my chair again, I reply to Canada's statement with, "Size doesn't really matter. This is only until I can get my own place again anyway."

A flicker of relief crosses Canada's features at that, but then it's gone.

' _Am I really that much of a pain_ , _that literally nobody wants me around_?'

Pushing the depressing, un-awesome thought away, I get to my feet. Picking up Gilbird, I ask, "Is there anywhere I can clean him off? I don't really want maple syrup on my shirt."

Canada sighs and gets to his feet, plucking Gilbird from my hand and walking over to his kitchen sink. "I'll wash him," he mumbles.

Coming out of my awesome momentary daze, I walk up behind Canada and peer over his shoulder to watch him wash Gilbird, who looks like he's enjoying the unplanned bath he's getting.

"How did he get syrup all over himself anyway?" Canada grumbles rhetorically to himself a couple minutes later.

"Peeyo! Peeyo!"

"I don't know. I wasn't paying attention."

Canada jumps, obviously startled. The now wet and clean Gilbird flaps away and lands on the dish rack as I take a step back.

"You almost gave me a heart attack!" The other country scolds.

I shrug. "You're the one who wasn't paying attention to where I was. The awesome me isn't at fault here."

Canada seems to get a bit redder like he's angry, but he doesn't say anything more about it.

Walking off, he mumbles, "I'll show you where your room is. Please don't get lost..."

I follow him down a couple of corridors, stopping behind him as he reaches a tall, narrow door with some kind of panel thing going on.

"Is this it?"

He nods. "I'm sorry it's so small, but none of the other rooms are any good... They're all too far from a bathroom or full of stuff or-"

I ignore the rest of his explanatory speech and push open the wooden door to the place I'll end up calling home for the next short while. I'll call it New Prussia. Glancing around the already fully-furnished room, I immediately decide that I'll need to make it way more live-in-able. The bed is pushed up against the wrong wall, so the first thing I do when I get in is move the bedside table, push the bed to where I want it, which is away from under the window, and then put the little table back.

I glance back over my shoulder to see that Canada looks a bit shocked. "I guess I'll leave you to that," he says, a tone of awe in his quiet voice. Then he leaves, shutting the door as quietly as a mouse. The hinges squeak.

I throw myself back on the bed, slightly startled to realize that it's as comfortable as it is. My expression darkens as I remember the military bed at West's, the hard cot at Russia's.

I shake myself off that train of thought, though. The awesome me shouldn't act all depressed.

"Peeyo!"

I sit up, watching Gilbird tumble onto my lap from off of my head. "When did you get here?" I wonder aloud.

"Peeyo! Peeyo!"

The little yellow bird decides to flit around near the window. I get up sluggishly and open it, briefly noting the sound of a phone off somewhere in this big house.

I open the window and stand at it for a while, watching Gilbird fly around both inside and outside.

Then I hear a quiet knock on my door.

"Ja? Was?" I call, turning around and feeling the abrupt annoyance hit. I was enjoying being alone.

Canada opens the door, peeking around it cautiously. "I have to go to a meeting. It was unexpected, sorry. I'll be back in a few hours... Please don't destroy anything. You can play the gaming system if you can find the den, there's stuff in the fridge, and all that..."

I smirk. "That's fine. I like it better being alone anyways, so you go to that meeting of yours," I respond, waving him off. He disappears just as quietly at the first time.

Ah, so what mischief can I get up to in this big house all by myself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _New Prussia:_ A small settlement in southern Ontario.


	4. Maple

I'm more than a little nervous and aggravated about leaving Prussia alone in my house so soon after just letting him stay here, but I guess there's really nothing to do about it. I can't bring him to the world meeting, since his brother will be there and I doubt they'll want to see each other right now. Besides, Prussia isn't a country anymore, so he wouldn't really be allowed anyway.

With a sigh, I hurry to the front, and, quickly throwing my stuff on and heading out to my car, I drive off to the border. Of all places, this particular world conference had to be in America. What wonderful luck. I get to see my lovely, friendly, welcoming _brother_ again.

And what wonderful sarcasm.

After an anxious hour on the road, I get to the place that this conference is being held. I'm only a few minutes early, so I just go to in the conference room. There I find my dad and my brother's dad, Who're sitting in a very awkward silence and glaring at the walls, not looking at each other.

"Hi, France, England," I greet.

England looks over at me. "Oh, America. I don't suppose you'll tell us why you called us here today?"

I give him an innocent smile. "I'm sorry, Mr. England. I'm not America. I'm _Canada_ ," I say, stressing my name so that maybe he'll remember next time.

England looks away, grumbling into his teacup and nibbling on something that doesn't look edible. I notice that his eyes dart over to several areas of empty air above his shoulder.

France nods to me as I sit next to him. "Salut, Canada. Comment ça va?" he asks me in French.

"Ah, je vais bien. Et toi?" I reply in a friendly tone. I don't think, for some reason, that it would be a good idea to mention the abrupt appearance of a certain Prussian at my house.

"Je vais bien aussi."

Our brief conversation stops as several other countries file into the room. Russia sits beside England and brings something up, Germany and Italy continue with whatever odd conversation they were having before, and Spain catches my dad in a conversation, which very effectively excludes me from the meeting. It's okay though. I'm used to it.

Eventually, America shows up. He's late, gets chewed out by several other countries, and completely neglects to notice me. Then the meeting goes in a familiar, mind-numbing pattern. That is, until Germany brings up a topic that jolts me out of my state of utter boredom.

"I thought it would be a good idea to tell you all that mein bruder has just recently left my house. I don't know where he's going, or who he's staying with, but if anyone has heard about his whereabouts, I don't want _anyone_ to tell me. I don't want to know. That is all."

"Ve~! Germany, that's mean! He's your brother!" Italy complains, just before I tune out the meeting again.

He doesn't want to know? Doesn't he care about his older brother at all? I might not get along the best with my brother at times, and he causes me lots of trouble, but I wouldn't ever be like that.

Wanting not even to know where your brother is... That's something I've never heard of before. He must have done something really wrong.

But I can't ask Prussia about it. That would be rude. And Germany probably wouldn't appreciate me asking him, either. So I'll just have to wonder.

When the meeting finally concludes, I smile down at my bear. What's his name again... Kumajammo?

"Let's go back home, then," I say cheerfully.

"Who are you?" he chirps.

Hanging my head, I glumly reply with, "I'm Canadia, and I'm your owner."

"Oh," he says back.

I get up and make my way over to the door, but then, in a hugely surprising turn of events, France intercepts me.

"Canada, it's been forever since we hung out together. What do you say to coming over to my place?"

I glance over my shoulder at the ruckus America's causing with England – they're fighting again – before giving my answer.

"I don't know, I wasn't really feeling up to any really far travel today. It's a good thing the meeting was so close for me, huh?" I say, smiling.

France smiles back at me. "Then I'll come over to yours, while I'm in the neighborhood."

I open my mouth and gape for a bit, but after a few seconds I end up saying, "Sure."

But... Oh, _maple_! What am I going to do if Prussia needs something and France sees him? I remember France had said a while ago that he wasn't really on good terms with Prussia any more...

I'm doomed.

Darn lack of willpower...


	5. Oresama

After about a half hour, I end up wandering randomly around Canada's house out of sheer boredom. I do end up finding the den, so I do as Canada said I could and play the gaming system for a while. There aren't really any super excellent games, but it lets me pass the time for a few hours.

That is, until I hear the two voices talking swiftly in French at the front door, only a very short distance from the den.

"Verdammt," I curse, quickly throwing the game into pause. Getting up and walking over to the doorway, I peek my head out to see France and Canada still getting out of their winter gear. I don't understand any of what they're saying. French... Ugh.

Then Canada turns around and sees me. His eyes widen and he mouths, 'Go back to what you were doing!'

'Nein!' I mouth back, fixing myself so that I'm leaning in the doorframe. Then I do something that makes Canada face-palm.

"So, was mein bruder dictator-like like he normally is?" I ask, letting a smirk slide onto my features.

France turns around, looking shocked to see me here. "Tabernac," he mumbles. I've known him long enough to know that he's cursing. "You're _here_? Why?"

"Canada makes pancakes, and pancakes are awesome. That's why," I reply boredly.

Canada himself looks very irritated. I guess he didn't want France to see me, or something. Maybe because France told him about our new status of being on bad terms.

But I'm too awesome to just hide whenever Canada has guests over.

"Well, I'm going back to my game," I yawn, after a short, awkward silence, then walk back into the den and slouch back into my spot on the couch. Why is everything here so damn comfortable? It's weird. It can't be normal to have such comfy furniture.

As I un-pause the game and continue trying to beat my already sky-high high score, I can faintly hear the sounds of more rushed speech in French. Canada's quiet voice seems pretty defensive, and France's is accusing. I can only guess that they're talking about me. They weren't arguing before I made my presence known, after all.

After a few minutes, both blond countries file into the den. I watch out of the corner of my eye as Canada sits at the other side of the couch, and France takes the loveseat – of course – at the other side.

"So you're going to live with Canada for now?" France asks, his tone like he's interrogating me.

"Ja," I reply shortly, distracted by the complicated button combo I have to press.

"For how long?"

"I don't know." I scowl at the game as I almost mess up my combo streak, but my awesome self keeps the huge combo intact despite the distraction.

"Do you have your own room?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, you French rapist," I snap back. He flinches.

"This is not the place to be fighting, mon ami-"

"We're not friends anymore, France. Got that? Now leave me alone."

France gets up and walks out of the den. Canada shoots me a questioning look as he follows after, but I don't say anything. That pansexual dummkopf has caused me enough issues.

I'm never going drinking with that Frenchman ever again.

I was drunk out of my mind; he had _one_ glass of wine. He was basically sober-

I'm startled out of my aggravated thoughts as my combo falls completely apart.

"Nein, nein! Gott verdammt!" I yell. "Stupid game!"

So, I turn off the console and make my way to my room in glum silence.

' _What did the awesome me ever do to deserve this much shit in my life_...'

I end up finding out as I lie on my bed that my bedroom is directly next to the kitchen. I can hear the quiet sounds of someone cooking something, and people chattering quietly and rapidly in French. I make out a few words, but nothing that will let me understand what they're saying.

Eventually, though, France leaves. I can faintly hear the conversation die down and the front door close. ' _What a blessing_ ,' I think to myself.

Some minutes later there's a knock on my door.

"Ja?" I reply flatly.

Canada peeks in cautiously. Something tells me he's not used to having anyone living in the same house with anyone.

"Did you want dinner?"

"I'm not hungry. France ruined my appetite."

He frowns, and leaves my to my thoughts.


	6. Maple

After France leaves, I make my way to Prussia's room. Dad really bugged me about having him staying here... But I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't give him somewhere to stay.

Then, after Prussia's having told me he's not hungry, I frown, shutting the door and padding off to the kitchen anyway. I put the dishes from the dinner I had with my dad in the dishwasher, and pull out some things to make Prussia dinner for if he gets hungry later.

I know that I barely even know him, but he looked so upset, just looking up at his ceiling with his hands behind his head like that. Something in me just wants to make him a little less lonely. I'd do it for anyone.

It's weird though. I get the feeling that France is the one that's in the wrong, but he looked like he was hurting too. Something _really_ bad happened between those two, obviously. That trio – France, Prussia, and Spain – used to be the best of friends. I was always jealous of their ability to fit together so well, even though they're all just so different.

I pull myself out of my meandering thoughts to cut up the vegetables, not wanting to cut myself by accident. Dinner. That's what I should be focused on.

After I've finished cooking, I turn around to see Prussia leaning his shoulder against the doorframe with a curious expression on his face. "I said I wasn't hungry."

"Then don't eat it. It'll refrigerate," I reply. Walking past him out the door, I go to the living room and sit back where I was before all this started today. This much stuff _never_ happens to me.

I pick up my book, but I can't seem to get myself into it like I was this morning. Glancing at the clock, I realize that it's only half past six. No way I could go to bed yet, but today has made me exhausted.

Maybe a nap...

No, what if Prussia needs something? Or breaks something?

I sigh, leaning my head back against the back of the couch and staring up at the ceiling. My bear crawls up on my lap, sitting there and facing me.

"I'm bored," he complains.

"Me too, Kumawhatsit," I reply.

"Who are you again?"

I lift my hand and slap it over my face. "I'm Canada, you silly bear."

No one _ever_ remembers who I am. Except France, and America... And, apparently, Prussia as well. But I think he just remembers me for my pancakes. Well... I guess it's better than not being remembered at all.

Then I get mistaken for America by everyone else.

And it's America's fault.

Him and his ' _I_ ' _m the hero_!' attitude. Because of him, I'm always picked on by everyone.

I frown at the ceiling. Why am I even thinking about this? I sound depressed, even to myself. Maybe I just need a bit more Canadian pride, and they'll notice me. Last time I tattooed a maple leaf to my forehead, but... That didn't work. America just put a sticker of his own flag on top of it. I really dislike him sometimes.

I sigh again, fumbling between the couch cushions for the remote. I turn it on, muting the sound out of habit, and scroll through the channels. Nothing's on, though, so I turn it back off, put the remote back between the couch cushions – what? It'll only end up there anyway – and walk back to the kitchen. There's no sign of Prussia having eaten or not, except for a dirty plate and fork on the counter.

I decide not to go looking for him. If he wants to be alone, that could be a bad plan.

So, I end up leaving the house for the second time today, and just standing out on the porch and staring up at the winter sky of stars.

Boredom kills.

Then the door opens and Prussia sticks his head out. "Um... Where's the bathroom?" he asks.

Without faltering I answer with, "Down the hall and on your right under the stairs. That's the closest one."

Prussia goes back inside, closing the door rather loudly. I wince as it slams shut. I hope the hinges aren't damaged or anything.

A few minutes later, the door opens again. "Where's a bathroom with a shower I can use?"

I sigh, walking away from my position at the railing and going back in the house. I lead Prussia down the hall to the second bathroom in the house, one with a shower. Finding towels and soap from various cupboard drawers, I leave him to his thing once he has everything he needs.

It's really going to be difficult to get used to having another person living here.

At least I'll have help with the firewood... Probably.


	7. Oresama

Weeks after I've moved in, Canada and I have barely spoken about my reasons for leaving Europe entirely. And I'm good with that. It's much different here than it was that time I had to stay with Russia, with his constant insistence that I 'become one', or when I was staying with West. That perfectionist bruder of mine would almost always insist that I be as impossibly tidy as him.

And so far, Canada doesn't seem to have anything bad to him as a landlord.

I smirk at myself in the mirror. I'd make an even more awesome landlord. I'll prove that when I have my empire in Europe back.

Then there's a soft knock – but more like _tap_ – on the bathroom door. Quietly, Canada's voice filters into the room.

"Prussia? Are you done yet?"

"Ja, one minute," I call. Finishing up quickly, I toss my toothbrush in the cup and leave the bathroom to Canada, who thanks me as he enters and locks the door. It's the only bathroom at his house with a _working_ shower – the other is under repair because I _might_ have broken it by accident; hey, Canada's shorter than me! – so it can get a bit annoying in the mornings, but it's pretty nice, not having to wait for seventeen hundred thousand people. I'm just awesomely exaggerating, of course.

And hey, since I get up before Canada almost every day, I usually get the bathroom first.

Ah, it rules to be awesome.

I head back to my room to get dressed. Another thing that's awesome about living here... I don't have to dress like I'm going to an official gathering all the time. I can just wear a shirt and pants – and socks and a sweater as well, but only because it gets cold.

Plus, mega bonus, Canada makes me pancakes when I don't break anything or when I fake an injury. I'm too awesome to hurt myself for real.

When I'm dressed, I pad downstairs to the den, and crash on the couch to start up the gaming system. I find myself turning down the volume a bit, then laugh at myself and put it back to normal. Living with Canada has made me used to quieter stuff I guess.

Canada leans on the couch behind me at some point, while I'm busy racking up huge scores again. "You're really good at that," he comments. I'm a little surprised to find that he doesn't seem so quiet anymore, and I'm the one that seems a little loud when I reply.

"Of course I am! I'm the awesome Prussia!"

A small scowl possesses my features. I need to stop being so silly. I'm not too loud! I'm the perfect awesome volume. It's Canada who needs to get louder.

Canada melts off like a ghost a few minutes later. I guess he's used to no one noticing him, so he doesn't say when he's coming or leaving. _Hah_ , coming...

' _Verdammt_ , _bruder_ , _don_ ' _t be so filthy_!'

I grimace. I'm still hearing West's voice in my head, chastising me when I do wrong. I need to stop that. It's very un-awesome.

The game I'm playing gets boring after a while, so I decide to go see if Canada is done making breakfast yet. He's always finished eating and gone by the time I go to get some, but he always leaves me food. Maybe he just doesn't feel awesome enough to eat in my presence?

Ja, that's gotta be it.

When I get to the kitchen, I notice three things. As usual, there's breakfast at my spot. _Not_ like usual, it's bacon and eggs.

And, oddly, Canada isn't done eating yet.

Why is it that when you think of something like that, it's always the opposite when you get to the situation? Weird!

I sit at the table and just stare at him for a moment. He looks uncomfortable under my stare, and puts his fork down. Huh, he uses his right hand for his fork, huh? Wait a second, why do I care? Ah, whatever. I guess I just noticed 'cause it's different.

"Yes, Prussia?" His tone of voice is faintly impatient and irritated, but quiet like always.

I blink, and quit staring quite so intently at him. "You're always finished already when I come to eat breakfast. It's weird seeing you not be done."

He frowns. "I thought you would just not notice my absence and not care..."

I laugh. "Nein, I always know when you're near me for some reason. Guess I'm just that awesome." Then I grin and get to eating, not giving it a second thought, nor sparing Canada another glance. His cooking is too good to bother looking up at him.

Canada finishes eating when I'm about halfway done myself. After I put my plate and things in the sink – the only requirement Canada has made of me so far – I wander along one of the halls. I still haven't explored his whole house, and I feel like it today.

His halls are all so weird... Wood trim on painted walls, wood floors with rugs on top, and more panely doors. Why not just get carpets and painted wood walls? And normal doors? Why be so fancy? I'll have to ask him later...

Suddenly, a ringing phone on a little end table just inside the den catches my attention, so, deciding to maybe be a little helpful, I answer it.

"Hallo, this is Canada's place," I answer, grinning to myself. I'm just so awesomely magnanimous, aren't I?

" _Hey_! _This is_ ' _Merica_ – _wait_ ,Prussia!? _Why are_ you _on the phone_!?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prussia is lying about Canada being shorter than him. Obviously, he's an unreliable narrator.


	8. Maple

The phone starts ringing, so I leap up out of my chair, hastily marking the place in my book and slamming it down on the end table next to me, and dash down the hall to get to the phone. I skid around a corner, which makes the rug slip to the side under my feet a bit, and then pause.

_'Oh, maple, why on earth is Prussia answering my phone!?'_

"Hallo, this is Canada's place," he says, grinning. He doesn't even bother to disguise his voice or anything. Is he really that self-centered!?

I dart over and snatch the phone out of his hand, and press it to my own ear with a breathless, "This is Canada speaking, who is this?" I shoot a glare at Prussia, which he returns with an innocent expression.

'I was helping!' he mouths at me.

I'm prevented from answering him by my brother's voice. " _Why is Prussia at your house_ , _Canada_?"

"Why are you calling my house?" I retort, avoiding the question.

" _Oh_! _Because there_ ' _s a majorly important world meeting at Germany_ ' _s coming up_. _I_ ' _m gonna be the awesome hero as usual_! _Ha ha ha_!"

I can tell that my question has easily deflected his train of thought, but the word 'awesome' only reminds me that Prussia is standing nearby. I toss another irritated look his way – he looks a little baffled – before I reply to my rather egotistical older brother. Incidentally, I'm noting a trend here with egotistical older brothers in my life.

"Can you tell me when it is, Al- 'merica?" I cut myself off from saying Alfred's full name quickly so that Prussia won't hear it. He definitely doesn't need to know any of the personal names in my family. After all, he's just a tenant. A tenant that blinks at me obliviously.

" _What_?' _Almerica_?' _What the hey_ , _Matt_?" Al's tone is a bit confused.

"Yeah, sorry. A certain Germanic fellow is listening in to my end of the conversation." A whole whack of irritation bleeds into my tone, but I know Al won't really notice it. Maybe Prussia will – maybe he'll leave.

Unfortunately, all I get from Prussia is a smirk and a whispered, "A certain _awesome_ fellow, you mean."

" _Yeah_ , _right_! _Why is he there_ , _anyway_?"

I grimace. I had to go remind him. "Well... He's paying me for room and board...?"

Prussia gapes at me, but I ignore him and plug my free ear with a fingertip to muffle his whispered protests about having to pay.

Apparently, Prussia is a freeloader.

" _But why would you take_ him _in_? _There are better people to get money from_!"

"You already buy a bunch of my stuff, America."

Unfortunately for me, my brother just keeps talking. I don't think he even knows I'm here anymore. So, with a sigh, I hang up the phone again. Then I turn to Prussia with a disapproving frown.

"I was just answering the phone," he says defensively.

"But it's _my_ phone! And if no one knows you're here, then they're obviously not calling for you, but for me."

Prussia shrugs and smirks. "But I'm awesome."

A muscle under my eye twitches in irritation. "Don't answer my phone any more, got it? Get a cell phone if you want to answer phones!"

He blinks, and his eyes shine with excitement. " _Can_ I? Can I really?"

"If you can pay for it," I say, sighing resignedly. Maybe Prussia really is more trouble that he's worth after all. But I can't just kick him out now. Where would he go?

_'Maybe I should lay out a few more rules...?'_

I sigh to myself again and walk over to adjust the rug I displaced earlier, covering up the darker spot on the wood floor where the sun never hits once again. I then trail my way down to the kitchen and get myself a glass of juice. I need to cool down.

I need a vacation.

"I wonder if there are any meetings coming up," I muse aloud to myself. Then I remember the meeting Al mentioned over the phone, the one at Germany's, and slap my forehead with the hand I'm not holding my juice with. "But I have to go to that one..."

I sigh. This isn't my day, is it.

After a while of just standing in the kitchen and sipping at my drink, I decide to get dinner ready, and go through the familiar motions as I think. My juice gets left on the counter the whole time, and is unpleasantly warm when I get back to it, which makes me frown to myself and put it back in the fridge to cool down.

As I set out plates and cutlery and shout as loud as I can for Prussia to come to dinner, I think to myself. If I call Al back and ask him when the meeting at Germany's is, I can plan a vacation for right after that. Maybe I can visit Cuba again. It's been a while since I talked to him.

After I eat – there's no sign of Prussia showing up on time for dinner, yet again – I head back to the phone to call Al and get the details for this meeting.


	9. Oresama

Canada has been dashing around like his pants are on fire for a couple hours now. I watch in amusement as he dashes through the room again, carrying what looks like a backpack, but not quite. A laptop case? Probably.

"Kesesesese~," I laugh to myself under my breath. He looks a bit silly right now with his suit jacket done up with the buttons crooked, his tie undone, and his pants tucked into the tops of his shoes all weird-like as he runs around the house and packs things.

Then he skids to a stop in front of me, panting like he's been running a marathon. Which, I suppose, isn't a stretch.

"Have you seen Kumadoodle?" he gasps.

I blink. "What?"

"My bear!"

I frown, getting confused, but not showing it because I'm too awesome to be confused. "Why would you take a bear to a world meeting?"

Canada pouts. It's adorable, in a bunny-like way, which makes me laugh inside. He looks like a kid, or even a little girl. "I just always do."

"Well, okay," I declare, standing up and making the curly-haired country step back. "The awesome me will find your bear!"

Canada gets an interesting expression of relief mixed with exasperation. "Thank you, Prussia. I don't know what I'd do if I'd lost Kumajeebles."

Startled, I tilt my head slightly. "You said its name was Kumadoodle just now."

He frowns stubbornly. "No, his name is Kumaphroozle. I'm pretty sure I said that."

I just stare in bewilderment at him. "Sure... I'll just go find your bear."

Canada nods. "Thanks... I'm going to keep looking too. Could you check upstairs?"

"Will do!" With that, I walk off and thunder up the stairs to the second storey of the large house. It's always a bit colder up here, I remember, hugging my arms around myself and wishing I had a sweater on.

Quickly, I search every room except for Canada's own bedroom. ' _Who knows what kind of over_ - _the_ - _top Canadiana material I could find in there_ ,' I think to myself. But there's also the fact that I probably shouldn't go in his room without permission. He might really start making me pay for my room and board as a punishment...

I shudder at the thought. I would have to get a job to get myself an economy for that to work out.

After checking over every room once more, again leaving Canada's room untouched and not finding signs of the existence of any bear, I thunder back down the stairs and look around. " _Canada_!" I shout. "Where did you get off to!?"

I hear a faint reply, muffled probably by a door, and head in the general direction with a shout of, "Where!?"

"Dining room!" comes the quiet reply, so I make my way there. I guess I know my way around this place better than I thought. Or maybe I just have super awesome geographical memory and didn't bother to use it until now.

Yeah, that's definitely it.

"I didn't find him," I announce as I enter the room.

Canada pokes his head out from under the tablecloth and pouts a little, looking upset. "I only have fifteen minutes before I have to leave to go to the airport!" he complains. "I can't go without Kumapaloodle!"

I blink at him. "Maybe he's in your bedroom. I didn't check there."

Canada's eyes go wide, and he scrambles out from under the table. "I'll go check!" he cries softly, and darts off, quiet as usual. I stare after him and lean down to peek under the table, frowning. Why would his bear be under here?

Then I hear a crash from upstairs. "Mein Gott," I curse to myself, and hurry up to Canada's room. The door is open and the country in question is seated in the middle of the room holding his head, looking like he probably fell off the bed behind him.

"What the hell?" I exclaim from the doorway. "What were you doing!?"

Canada looks at me unfocusedly. "I found him," he says, "I found Kumadandy." Then he points up at the top of a tall bookshelf against the wall that I can see when I crane my neck around and take a couple steps into his room. The white bear is sitting on the shelf just below the top one, which is fairly high up since the bookshelf goes up to the ceiling.

"How did he get up there?" I question.

"I don't know..."

"I climbed!" says a high, squeaky voice.

I blink at the bear, which can apparently talk, and reach up to lift him down, handing him to Canada after. "So you were trying to reach him from your bed and fell?"

Canada nods, then puts his hands to his head like he's dizzy. "Yeah."

I sigh, annoyed with the un-awesomeness of it all. "Use a stool next time!"

Canada just grins at me sheepishly. "It's broken."

"Who are you?" the bear cuts in suddenly, looking up at the country holding him. I blink.

"I'm Canada," Canada whines, hanging his head.

It's then that I realize neither bear nor country knows the other's name.


	10. Maple

My forehead still hurts from when I smacked it on the floor while I was trying to get my bear down off that shelf. All the rushing around and trying to get myself in order with only five minutes to get out the door didn't help any, but at least Prussia got Kumatoodle down for me.

Now, though, I'm in the car, driving to the airport and holding my head with one hand as I drive with the other. I know my head should stop hurting pretty soon, so I can't just stay home for such a little thing. For now, I have to focus on getting through the traffic safely and making it to the airport on time.

I glance briefly at the clock on my dashboard. The flight to Germany's place leaves in only an hour, so I don't have that much of a margin for time and traffic issues. It's a good thing I'm almost there.

At a red light, I stop and shift uncomfortably. My jacket feels wrong... I look down and go red as I realize that all the buttons are crooked, and quietly redo them with one hand. ' _Well_ , _that was embarrassing_ ,' I think to myself, glad that I caught the issue before being seen by other people.

I pull up to the airport and do the things I need to take care of for my departure, then get on the plane and into my seat with a few minutes to spare. Once seated, I lean my head back against the headrest and rub my forehead gently with one hand, wincing a bit. I guess I should have been more careful and gotten a stool.

I find myself being a little bit jealous of Prussia's few centimeters of extra height.

I set myself up for a little reading as the plane takes off, the slight turbulence jarring my seat and making me a bit uncomfortable. Overall, though, the plane ride is quiet and pleasant, and I'm able to finish my book before tuning in to the last half hour or so of the in-flight movie. And I don't have any issues when I get off the plane and fetch my bear from the people who take care of pet transport. I smile around at all the people filling the airport and step out of their ways instinctively, making my way through the crowd to go get a rental car for the duration of my visit.

However, I see a familiar ash-blond head of hair with one lock sticking straight up in the air, and change course accordingly. "Al!" I shout. "America!" But, not surprisingly, he doesn't hear me until I'm right beside him. " _Al_!"

"Ah- _yeargh_!" he yelps, whipping his head around and looking terrified. "Is there a ghost!?"

"No," I mumble sheepishly. "It's just me, Canada."

"Oh!" My brother laughs, the loud, sharp sound cutting through the babble of people. "Hey, bro!"

I sigh and hang my head. "Hi."

Then, "Hey, Mattie! How would you like a ride to the meeting with the awesome hero!?" Alfred ruffles my hair playfully, and I bat his hand away automatically.

"Sure, thanks" I reply, not wanting to hurt his feelings, and glad that I won't have to pay for a rental car. I follow after him until we get to the car, remembering only after he reminds me that the driver's side and passenger side are different than at home, and get in.

Upon arriving at the meeting, Al ceases his loud, drink-and-burger-ingesting–interrupted, obnoxious monologue, and then heads in. I follow him and set myself up in my seat, since everyone here that I know is already involved in a conversation, and get ready to wait for my turn as usual, hopeful that I'll actually get one this time.

But, unfortunately, no one calls on me this time around, either. I listen, and take notes on a couple of interesting things that are happening around the world, but for the whole meeting I don't do much but hold my still-aching head in my hands. I just don't understand why my head still hurts. I bumped it _hours_ ago. Maybe it's just that I'm tired and jet-lagged... That's probably it... Yes, I'm sure of it.

At the end of the meeting, I say a quick hello to dad and check that he hasn't told anyone about Prussia's stay at my place. To my relief, he hasn't, so I thank him with a 'merci' and a hug before leaving. I don't want to anger Germany by accident because of his annoying brother.

I pack up my things and carry Kumashandi with me out to Al's car. I managed to get him to agree to take me back to the airport, and I'm glad I managed it, too, because I don't really want to beg for a ride from someone else.

My head _still_ hurting, I get into the car and buckle in. "Hey, bro, you look out of it," Alfred observes, glancing over at me. "You okay?"

I smile at him, glad that he's actually showing he cares for once. "I'm all right, really. Just tired."

He nods. "Ah, 'kay," he replies, and keeps driving.

We split up at the airport, and I settle down to wait for my flight to arrive. It'll be another couple of hours.

But the longer I wait there, in the hot air and in my suit, with the chattering of people around me and the stifling smell of a thousand different perfumes and other odors wafting through the air, the more my head hurts.

Eventually, it gets to be too much, and I pull out my cell phone and call my home number, praying Prussia will have the good sense to look at the caller ID and see that it's me. Thankfully, he picks up, and his voice comes over the line, crackled faintly with static. " _Canada_? _Why are you calling_?"

"My head still hurts... Can you throw an ice pack in the freezer and maybe order a pizza from somewhere? Please and thank you?"

" _Sure_ ," he replies, sounding confused.

"Thank you," I mumble, "talk to you later." Prussia says something in German as a reply. Then I hang up and put my phone away, pressing my palms to my temples.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prussia said "auf wiedersehen", probably. German for "goodbye".


	11. Oresama

The phone call from Canada didn't make much sense. Put an ice pack in the freezer and call for pizza? Does that mean he wants me to get pizza for myself for dinner? Or does he mean he wants me to get pizza for both of us and leave some for him? Or just wait for him to be almost home and order pizza? Or order pizza and tell them to have it delivered a couple minutes before he's supposed to be home?

I frown to myself, settle on the 'get pizza for both of us and leave some for him' option, and then head over to the phone. I flip through the phone book until I find a pizza place number that's been circled in red pen, dial the number, and put the phone to my ear to wait.

" _Hi_ , _this is_ the Pizza Place!" says the falsely chipper voice on the other end of the phone. " _What can we do for you today_?"

"Hallo, I'm calling to order a pizza," I tell the voice. "I think a large one."

" _Okay_ , _what toppings_?"

I blink, instantly lost. What would Canada want on his pizza? If I get everything, I guess he can just pick off what he doesn't like. But I'll be picking things off too... Oh well. Better that than have him get angry and do something of the revenge sort. I don't know what his limits are – and he _did_ get angry over my answering his phone that time. He might start making me really pay to stay here.

"Um, everything? But no anchovies..."

Regardless of whether he likes them, I am _not_ going through and picking out every little anchovy.

" _Okay_. _Can you tell me your address_?"

"Wait a minute and I can tell you. I'm at a friend's..."

Then, thinking a little bit further, I blink. ' _Is he a friend_?' I think to myself. ' _Would I even care if he weren_ ' _t_...?'

" _All right_ ," the bored-sounding phone voice replies. " _Be quick_ ; _I don_ ' _t have all day_ , _you know_."

I scoot out to the porch and look at the address which is conveniently written on the mailbox, then go back in and repeat it to the phone voice.

" _All right_ , _sir_. _It_ ' _ll be delivered in a half hour_. _Have the money ready_ -' The voice gives me the price and hangs up.

My eyes widen a bit as I realize I don't know where to find any money in this house. Quickly, I dial the number in the phone's memory from Canada's cell phone when he called, and pray he picks up. Unfortunately, all I get is a looping audio message that tells me his phone is unavailable.

"Sheiβen," I curse, and hang up the phone. I guess it's time for operation 'find Canada's piggybank'.

I dash upstairs, guessing that it would be somewhere in his room, and skid to a stop outside his door. I then sneak inside, feeling like I shouldn't be in here, and glance around the white-walled, red-trimmed room.

There's a modest-sized flag with a maple leaf hung over the headboard of the double or queen sized bed, a maple-leaf comforter on the bed, and a white rug on the red-carpet floor. I blink around at the odd color scheme, noting the presence of a couple maps on one wall. A world map, and a map of Canada. ' _Hm_ , _now that_ ' _s distracting_.'

I walk over and poke at the map, wondering if he would feel it. I find where my bedroom, New Prussia, is located, and chuckle to myself. It's circled in red pen and labeled ' _Prussia_ ' in hastily neat cursive.

Remembering my awesome mission, I sneak away and start raiding Canada's dresser drawers, looking for a piggy bank. When that plan of attack proves to be fruitless, and I discover a few things that I just didn't want to know about Canada's underwear, I look all over the rather messy desk in the corner of his room. And there it is, a small wad of cash just sitting there. I blink, quickly make sure the money isn't counterfeit or something, and grab enough to pay for the pizza with as little change as necessary. Quickly, I write a post-it note explaining the slight decrease in the wad o' cash in case I forget to explain it myself, exit Canada's room and slam the door shut, and run back downstairs.

Awesomely, I leap down the last few stairs just as the doorbell rings.

"Ja, I'll be right there!" I shout, and hurry there. When I reach the door, I fling it open to greet the man carrying the pizza.

"Delivery of a large pizza, everything but anchovies," the delivery man says boredly. These pizza people seem to always be bored...

I nod. "Danke, that's it," I say, and pay him. Apparently, the cost of delivery goes straight to tip or something with this company, so I take the change back and stuff it in my pocket as I take the pizza and thank the delivery guy again. My immediate next step is to take the pizza in to the kitchen and set the box on the table, and then dig in after removing the gross stuff from my portion.

I think as I eat, wondering about earlier thoughts. Is Canada my friend, or just my landlord? Do I want him to be my friend? It's weird, since I'm used to having no friends, but I think I actually do.

Canada would make a pretty awesome friend. Almost as awesome as his pancakes. But it's impossible to be as awesome as Canada's pancakes, unless you're me. I'm the most awesome thing there is. But Canada's pancakes are almost close.

I leave half the pizza for Canada, putting it in the fridge when I'm done eating, and then stroll off to the den to play a video game or two. He should be home from the meeting in a few hours, so I have to pass the time.

Hey, now that I think about it, I don't actually know where he goes for all these meetings. I'll ask some time.


	12. Maple

It's late when I get back to the house. My head is still throbbing, and all I really want to do is lie down.

"I'm home," I shout, as I open the door and go inside my house. The smell of maple syrup soothes my tired mind slightly, and a small smile crosses my features. It's so good to be back home...

An instant later, I hear the background music for some video game stop. Then there's a series of thumps, and the albino country who was playing the game in question skids out of the doorway to the den and grins at me, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Hallo!" he chimes.

I smile back tiredly and take off my suit jacket. "Hey."

"You look beat," Prussia observes.

"Yeah," I sigh, and head to the kitchen.

Prussia follows. "Your head still hurt?"

Blinking, I turn around to face him and put my jacket on the kitchen counter. "Yeah... Like hell..."

His eyes widen slightly. "Whoa, awesome! I haven't heard you swear before!"

Ignoring him, I open the fridge and stare for a moment at the pizza box on the bottom shelf. "You were supposed to just get this for yourself," I tell him, taking the box out of the fridge and turning around.

Prussia shrugs. "I didn't know what you meant so I just played it safe, 'cause I'm awesome like that."

Regardless of how egotistical it is of him to say that, I smile gratefully and take a slice of pizza out of the box. My stomach is growling at me, I realize, so I should probably eat. "Well, thanks for leaving some for me," I reply, before taking a seat at the table and forcing myself to take a bite of the pizza.

With a smile, I realize that this is from _the Pizza Place_ , my absolute favorite local pizzeria, and dig in with gusto. It doesn't matter what toppings I get with _the Pizza Place_ 's pizza; it's just that good. So good that I even forget my headache for a moment.

Prussia sits across from me after about a minute or so and stares at me. It makes me uncomfortable, so, shifting in my seat and feeling my face flush a bit, I ask, "Could you please stop staring at me?"

Prussia blinks. "I wasn't," he says defensively.

With a pout, I reply, "Yes you were."

He frowns, and even more defensively than before, if that's possible, repeats his declaration.

"Let's just stop arguing, shall we," I mumble, putting my hand against my forehead to make the throbbing stop.

"Oh... Es tut mir leid."

"...What?"

"In English it's 'I'm sorry'..."

"Oh... Well, thanks..." At that, I lean my head against the table and will it to stop throbbing. I still don't know why it still hurts like this. I just wish it would stop.

An awkward silence passes between us before Prussia speaks again.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"No..." I groan. "My head still hurts!"

Another silence.

"Did you eat anything before now today?"

Straining the last shreds of my mental power, I think back to this morning. I can't recall having eaten anything. I don't think I ate dinner last night, either, nor did I eat on the plane over either trip to and from Germany's.

"I am such a _moron_ ," I groan, thumping my head on the table, regretting it afterwards as the world tries to do a throbbing loop-the-loop. "Ow..."

"Just eat your pizza, Canada," Prussia orders. I look up in surprise, noting his stern expression and doing as he says almost immediately. Not only is this the first time he's _told_ me to do something, but the way he did it is fiercely reminiscent of his younger brother's intimidating method of getting what he wants. I guess that kind of thing does run in families.

After I've finished my slice of pizza and my head is finally starting to hurt less, I look up to see that Prussia has gone somewhere else, and there's a glass of water in front of me. With a blink of surprise, I glance around to look for him, but he's nowhere to be found. Taking the hint, I sip at the water, wondering why he's suddenly being so nice.

Then I shake myself mentally. He's not being _nice_ ; he's probably trying to get something from me. I shouldn't be so mistrustful, but other people have done that in the past. England was really nice to me before he made me take Vimy Ridge in World War One, and that's not the only example. Juno Beach in World War Two, and Hong Kong as well. And not all of those things went well for me, either. Hong Kong was not a great battle for me.

I think on it as I get up and get myself another slice of pizza. I guess he _could_ just be being nice. Al is nice to me all the time, without wanting anything from it. Well, he _is_ my brother, so he's not nice all the time, but still.

I can't help but wonder whether he's actually being nice or not. Then I wonder why I care.


	13. Oresama

I gave him water and left. Part of me wonders why, and part of me wonders why I didn't do more. The poor guy is stressed out – what over, I don't know, and I don't think he realizes anyway, but whatever it is that's doing it, it's not awesome at all to be getting Canada down. Well, it might just be that his head still hurts, but there's got to be some reason he wasn't eating. He still kept making me meals, though, so maybe that's why I didn't think of it until he had that major hunger headache.

It's upsetting. The awesome me should notice when his friend is upset or stressed a lot sooner than I did. And I'm pretty sure now that Canada is my friend. If he weren't, I don't think he would let me stay here for free this long...

How long has it been, anyway? I can't remember. A while, anyway.

Then I remember that I have to tell Canada about the pizza money issue, and head back to the kitchen and peek my head in the door.

"Hey, Canada?"

He looks up at me, that one curl of hair bobbing slightly in a cute way. "Yeah?" I grin; he already doesn't sound quite so strained. Guess I was right that he just needed to eat to get rid of his headache.

"Well," I declare, stepping into the kitchen and taking the chair opposite him. "I had to find money for the pizza, so I got some from off your desk in your room. I thought I should tell you."

He blinks at me, then asks, "How much did it cost?"

"Not even thirty dollars," I reply. "Only got the one pizza, you know. And I put the change back up there." Then I blink. "No, wait, it's in my pocket, hang on..."

Canada laughs a bit, and I look up from my efforts to weasel my hand into my pocket to get the change out.

"Was?" I ask, indignant.

He smiles at me and covers his mouth with his hand like he's trying to smother his silent laughter, but it leaks out anyway, since I guess he can't make those bright blue eyes dim down to hide it. "Thanks for telling me," he says, then ducks his head and picks up his pizza slice again.

"Nichts zu danken," I mutter, and get up. "Here." Then I pull the change out of my pocket and put it on the table, and walk out of the kitchen. I can feel Canada watching me as I leave, and for the first time since I can remember, I wonder what someone thinks of me. I guess I must seem a little rude sometimes... But no, I'm too awesome for that. No one can fail to see my awesomeness!

"Ah well, who knows," I say to myself, scratching the back of my head. I head out to the porch and just stand there for a bit, leaning on the rail and looking out into the trees.

"Peeyo!"

Blinking, I look around for the source of the sound. A few seconds later, I spot a bright yellow blip in the sky, and follow it with my eyes until it lands on the banister in front of me. I blink at Gilbird, surprised at seeing him now when I haven't even thought about him for a while now. I've been thinking more about Canada, to be honest, but I swear it's not in _that_ way...

"Peeyo! Peeyo!" Gilbird chirps, dancing around on the banister and nearly falling off. I scoop him up quickly, then hold him up at eyelevel.

"Where have _you_ been?" I inquire. Gilbird just flaps his wings and chirps at me some more, then flits up out of my cupped hands and does a few loops in the sky. I notice a small, light brown bird join him, and my eyes go wider in surprise. "Gilbird, did you find yourself a Girlbird?"

"Peeyo!"

"Pii, pii!"

A cheerful grin stretches over my features as I watch the two small birds flit around. They swoop in just over my head and circle for a rotation or two, then fly off, chirping happily to each other.

"So Gilbird got himself a girlfriend, huh?" I sigh. It's just a bit depressing, since I haven't even really gone out of the house to try finding myself a lady yet.

"What was that?" I look over my shoulder at Canada, who's peeking out of the doorway into the house with a slightly puzzled expression on his face. "Something about someone getting a girlfriend?"

I laugh. "Gilbird, you know the bird I had with me when I showed up? Well he found himself a lady bird. I'm gonna call her Girlbird," I explain, "because she looks just like him, but she's a girl bird."

Canada walks over, adjusting his bright red sweater a little as he does, and leans next to me on the banister. "I guess as names go, it's not the _most_ unoriginal," he says innocently, then smiles sweetly at me.

"Hey!" I protest. "It's a great name! And be glad it's in English! I could have named her Mädchenvogel!"

Canada blinks at me obliviously. "Does that mean the same thing?"

"Ja." I grin, holding in a laugh at his adorable pout.

"You're silly..."

"Hey! No I'm not! I'm awesome!"

Canada just shakes his head and laughs a bit, smiling. I return the smile, then look for Gilbird so I can point him and his new gal out to Canada.

This 'togetherness' thing feels nice... _Friends_. I think I like that word.


	14. Maple

It's a bit chilly out tonight. I'm thankful for my warm, thick sweater, and I'm glad I thought to put it on before coming outside. Prussia too has a sweater on, and doesn't look like he notices the chilliness at all. It's a good thing he adjusted so well to the temperatures of my home. Though, he _did_ only show up in March, so I don't really know if he'll manage the winter too well. I suppose he should, though; I know he spent a while at Russia's at the tail end of World War Two.

"Ah! Canada, look! Over there!" the albino country cries suddenly, pointing. I follow his finger with my eyes and see a small yellow bird flitting about with a light brown one of the same size, and smile.

"You're right. He did find a girl, huh."

"Yeah. Maybe I should take the hint," Prussia jokes, and elbows me in the side lightly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, confused.

He just grins at me. "We should hit the town sometime and both look for someone. Friends do that, right?"

I blink, startled at first by the word 'friends', then smile. "Yeah. Sure."

If I'm with Prussia, I might be noticed a little more. He definitely makes an attention-grabbing figure; he's loud, he's obnoxious, and he's certainly eye-catching because of his distinctive coloring. Maybe I'll be noticed too if I'm with him. I won't be looking for anyone, though – I'm fine being single. But if Prussia wants a girlfriend, I won't argue.

Besides... The idea of being real friends with someone makes me startlingly happy.

"So, where's a good place?" Prussia asks, his face lit up like that of a child on Christmas morning.

"Um... Well, I normally don't go out much, because no one really notices me. But there are a few places – I'm sure we could try looking on the internet."

Prussia's expression changes slightly when I mention that nobody notices me, and he ignores what I say after that, instead retorting over of the last bit of my sentence, "Why wouldn't people notice you!? You're a nice guy!" He frowns. "Besides, _I_ always notice you! What's _wrong_ with people!?"

My face flushes at his vehement commentary. "Well... I'm just not good with people..."

He blinks, then ruffles my hair, a wide grin stretching over his face. "Aw, Canada~! You never told me you were shy~!"

"Hey!" I cry, hastily pushing his hand off my head. Why do people do that to me all the time, anyway? "I'm not shy! I just don't like getting involved in fights, and that's all anyone ever does at world meetings!" The excuse seems feeble though, even to me. I am shy... But I don't want to admit it. Especially not since I don't really feel quite as shy when I'm only with Prussia.

The other country just grins at me some more and laughs a little. "De-ni-al~!" he teases, his tone of voice sing-song and playful.

"Shush!" I mumble, pouting, and duck my head just a bit to look at him over the lenses of my glasses. He looks a little bit blurry without the clarifying glass.

"Aw, come on, Canada," Prussia says, frowning slightly. "Try to be more outgoing."

I quickly duck my head further to hide my embarrassed blush. "I just don't want to be like America," I whisper.

"You don't _have_ to be like him." I look up at Prussia in surprise, and he smiles. With a shock, I realize that I can tell now when his smile is sincere – and this one is. "You're awesome, Canada. I don't make friends with un-awesome people. You just need to show people how awesome you are!" He grins, and pats me on the back.

I stay silent, and turn to watch the bright yellow spot in the sky that's still flitting about with its brown companion.

"Uh... Canada?"

"Mm?"

"Are you mad or something?"

I glance over at Prussia, a little surprised to see him frowning. "No..."

"Then why," he says flatly, "are you acting so weird?"

I pout. "Because you're pushing me to say something I don't want to..."

He blinks. "Was?"

"Well..." I look away, blushing. "I guess I am a bit shy."

Prussia blinks, and seems a little surprised, but recovers quickly. "See?" he declares, clapping me on the shoulder. "That wasn't so hard to admit!" Then he pauses. "But you don't normally act shy..."

"That's because you're so loud you fill in the silence by yourself," I joke, and shove at his shoulder. He tips to the side a bit and laughs.

"Maybe!" A few seconds of grinning later, he says, "So back to our other topic."

It takes me a second to get what he means. "Oh yeah! Did you have any kind of place you wanted to go...?"

"I think... We should go out for a beer!" A wide grin stretches over Prussia's face as he says that.

My expression instantly becomes an unimpressed, unenthusiastic one. Going out _drinking_ isn't quite my thing, but... "Well... Sure..."

"Wunderbar!" Prussia shouts, looking excited. "Danke, Canada!"

I sigh a quiet, "You're welcome." I guess I still can't stand up for myself...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My 15-year-old self obviously did not know how much people in Canada actually drink.


	15. Oresama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alcohol/drinking warning on this chapter, obviously. You can skip it.

I'm so excited. I finally get to drink beer again. Beer is awesome. I _love_ beer. I would _marry_ beer if I could and if it wouldn't be weird. Well, really I doubt that beer would be any good in bed. But whatever. Beer equals awesomeness, and that's all there is to it on the subject!

"Beer! Beer! _Beer_ ~!" I sing to myself, pulling on a clean t-shirt. Canada told me I wasn't allowed to go anywhere with him if I wasn't dressed relatively nicely... It's not that bad though, since he said jeans would be good. So black jeans it is, along with a Prussian Eagle t-shirt with a dark red button-up shirt over top. And awesome neon green sneakers. Can't forget the sneakers.

When I'm dressed, and have assured myself I'm looking sexily awesome, I dash down the hall and head for the front door. Canada isn't ready yet, so I go outside to pace on the porch. I can't wait to go out and find myself a girl. And I can't wait to get drunk again; it's been way too long!

Canada comes out a couple minutes later, and laughs a little. "Wow, Prussia," he says, his voice quiet, but his tone light. "You certainly look raring to go. Your shirt is even on inside-out!"

I blink and come to a halt in my pacing, and crane my neck around to try and see the tag at the back of my shirt. "What? No it isn't!"

Canada laughs some more, then steps forward and tugs at the collar of my shirt. "It is."

I stare down at where the buttons on my shirt should be, and frown. "Huh. So it is." Quickly, I pull the shirt off and put it back on properly. "So~? Can we go now? Huh? Huh?" Impatiently, I bounce on the balls of my feet. I want to go get beer! And a girl... But mostly beer.

"Yeah, we can go, but we're walking," Canada declares sternly.

"What? Why~? Can't you drive?" I complain, and follow the blond country down his porch stairs.

"I don't want to have to drive if I end up having a drink or two. It's illegal," he says. "Besides, if one of us passes out, the other can always call a cab."

I frown. "Fine..."

Canada and I end up walking several blocks. Towards the end of the walk, my feet start to hurt, and I let myself complain a bit. It makes Canada frown and punch me in the shoulder lightly, however, so I shut up, since I don't want to annoy him _too_ badly. But when we get to the club-bar-place- _thing_ , my spirits lift immediately.

"Yay! Beer!" I shout exuberantly, and Canada shakes his head and laughs.

"Let's go," he says, and drags me by the shirt collar to the line.

"Hey!" I protest, laughing. "That's so not cool!"

After we're inside the club, I grin around and listen to the English techno music for a little bit, following Canada absent-mindedly to the counter. I watch with a frown as Canada tries to signal to the bartender for a while without success, but then get fed up.

"Oi! Bartender guy!" I shout, slamming my hand down on the bar counter. Canada jumps skittishly, and I quickly mouth an apology to him. The bartender notices – hooray for the awesome me! – and quickly heads over.

"Yes, sir, what can I get for you?" he asks.

I look at Canada. "Canada?"

"Um... A light beer please," he shouts, straining to be heard over the music. Poor guy, he's too quiet.

I just nod and relay his order to the bartender, and add my own order of an import from West's. I like this beer; it's awesome. I'm glad this place has it.

It doesn't take very long – or really very many drinks, either – for Canada to get drunk. He's off in the crowd of people somewhere, blending in, dancing with his hands in the air, and honestly looking like a woman the few times I manage to see him in between the people. I hit on a few girls, but my focus really isn't all that into it. There's no really hot girls here tonight...

I sigh, and shout, "Another!" I throw back the beer as soon as it's slid over to my place, and leave the bar after I've slapped some money down on the counter. I'm paying for every drink individually... It's better that way, because I don't forget, or get too many drinks for my money. Money that Canada gave to me for tonight, but whatever, it's mine now and I'm supposed to pay for my drinks with it. At least the beer I like is strong and not too expensive, so I can get drunk properly.

After I move off to the dance floor, I lose focus on my surroundings. I dance, awesomely of course, I totally lose track of what the lyrics of the music are saying, because I can't focus on translating it right now, and I end up making out with some blonde chick up against a wall. Her glasses keep getting in the way though, so I put them on top of her head before going back to shove my tongue down her throat some more. She tastes like some kind of light beer plus maple syrup. Maybe it's a Canadian thing. Not like I care anyway, though.

I'm totally drunk, and I know it. And it feels great.

Unfortunately, I don't end up getting laid. Like I saw at the start, there's no really hot girls here. And no one sees my pure Prussian awesomeness. It's their loss, I tell myself, but privately, it's kind of a bummer.

At some point in the wee hours of the morning – I really don't know, it's some time past a lotta' beers – I pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, that's Canada.
> 
> (TL;DR for the folks who skipped: Prussia and Canada went to a club/bar/place/ _thing_ (Prussia's words), Prussia helped Canada get the bartender's attention, Prussia got drunk and snogged "some chick".)


	16. Maple

I crack my eyes open with a groan, putting my hands up against my forehead to stop the painful throbbing that the light hitting my eyes causes. I wasn't planning to get so drunk like that last night. I can only just barely remember what all happened. I _do_ know that I got myself home, and Prussia as well, although I don't think the cab driver was likely too thrilled about the drunken state of us both.

"Ugh," I mutter, and roll over onto my other side. I get up out of bed and head over to the bathroom, taking a few anti-nausea and anti-headache pills to try and get rid of my relatively minor hangover. ' _At least I_ ' _m not throwing up_ ,' I think to myself. It's not like it takes much to get me drunk; I'm a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, I guess. I'm just glad I don't get massive hangovers.

I manage to get myself out of last night's awful alcohol-scented clothes and into a pair of soft red pajamas without too much issue, and head down to make something to eat. I need to get some food into my system, and probably a drink of water would be a good idea too, I tell myself.

"You look a little sick, whoever you are," chimes a high voice that makes me flinch. I look back over my shoulder at Kumadawdaw and frown.

"I'm Canada," I mutter dismally. "And I'm not sick. I just have a hangover." Turning my back on Kumastuffles, I get myself a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water from the tap.

"Oh," Kumachummy chirps – I wince again at the shrill pitch of his voice and glance reproachfully at him – and waddles away. I really don't know where he goes half the time... But at least he won't be chirping at me and making my head hurt now. It's a selfish benefit, I know, but still.

While I'm sipping from my glass of water, Prussia pretty much drags himself into the kitchen and slumps in his usual chair at the table.

"Can you get me some water too? Please?" he groans, holding his head. As hurriedly as I can be, I do so, and also supply him with the pills matching the ones I took earlier that I kept with me just in case.

"Here." I sit across from him and sip at my water. My head pounds painfully whenever I move.

"Danke," Prussia mutters, and tosses the pills back with some of the water. "Ugh..."

"Maybe next time," I mumble, "we should try not to get _quite_ so drunk."

"Ja..."

I sigh and slump so my forehead rests against the cool wood of my table. It feels so much better now, actually.

"Hey, Prussia."

"Was?" he groans.

"The table helps..."

There's a soft thud as, I presume, Prussia leans his head on the table as well. "Huh... It does... That's awesome..."

"Uh huh... It is..."

"Hangovers suck..."

"They really do..."

After a while, both Prussia and I manage to get up and stop groaning about our headaches. I set about to making pancakes, something I haven't done in a while, and Prussia actually helps, surprisingly enough. It turns out that he's useless with a measuring cup, but he's good at stirring the batter together, so we work out a system. After we've had pancakes, with plenty of maple syrup to drown them in, I think both of us are feeling better.

"Thank god for nausea pills," Prussia mumbles, leaning back in his chair. "I need a nap though..."

"Me too," I sigh, and stand up, becoming slightly dizzy. "I'll head off to the den... Don't feel like going upstairs..."

Prussia nods slowly. "'Kay. I'll be in New Prussia." He stands as well, and we split up to head to our respective choices for napping locations.

I collapse on the couch and just lie there for a while. I can't make myself fall asleep for some reason, and there's something nagging at my mind, so I decide to go over the events of last night after Prussia and I got to the bar.

After we got there... I remember being unable to get the bartender's attention, no matter how loud I shouted, but Prussia managed to do it easily. The way he did scared the daylights out of me, but it worked. He helped me get my order through, too. I guess he's a nice guy behind that ' _I_ ' _m so awesome_ ' exterior of his.

Shaking myself, I get myself back to the process of sorting through what I can remember of last night.

I got drunk after only a couple of drinks, and I spent a lot of my time dancing like an idiot on the dance floor. It was insanely fun, so I didn't care at the time, but I grimace at the thought of how dumb I must have looked. I only had three drinks the whole night, the third one being at about the halfway point because of how hot I was. How I got the bartender's attention is a mystery, but oh well.

After that... I remember making out with someone, and quite heavily, too. I think... Yeah, I was up against the wall, and they – _he_? well, it's not _too_ unusual, I guess – had me pinned. He put my glasses on top of my head, because they were in the way, I think... He had pale hair that looked like it changed its color with the dance lights... And... I remember the most strikingly beautiful, truly memorable crimson red eyes...

My eyes slowly go wider as I realize something totally and utterly shocking.

I think I was making out with _Prussia_.

Oh, _maple_... I can't tell him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The twist _everyone_ saw coming!


	17. Oresama (BEGIN PART TWO)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here begins Part Two!

"Canada~!" I whine, peeking into the kitchen through the screen door at the back of the house. "I think I got sunburned again!"

Canada scoots quickly into the kitchen, carrying the awesome skin cream stuff he has that fixes sunburns really well.

"For crying out loud, Prussia – oh, maple, you _really_ did a number on yourself this time," he exclaims, changing the direction of his words the second he sees me.

"Is it bad?" I complain, pouting and slipping into the house. My shoulders and the back and sides of my neck are killing me...

"You look like a maple leaf!" Canada shouts – it's more like a normal talking volume, though – then drags me into the house by the wrist. He hauls me along all the way to the living room before letting go. "Sit down," he orders.

I sit obediently on the arm of the couch and pull off my shirt, used to this procedure by now. Canada perches on the couch arm behind me and rubs some of the skin cream stuff on my back, neck, and shoulders. I wrinkle my nose at the funky, un-awesome smell, but don't protest.

"Why on earth do you go outside in muscle shirts all the time when you _know_ you're going to get burned?" Canada mutters as he rubs the smelly skin cream into my burns.

"I _like_ being outside, and muscle shirts are comfortable and awesome," I retort defensively, then wince as Canada slaps my sunburned shoulder, making my skin sting. "Ow!" I yelp, then quickly declare, "Uh, that didn't hurt, I'm too awesome for that..."

Canada laughs and puts more of the skin goop on me. "Of course it didn't," he says, his quiet voice in a playfully mocking tone.

"Ja, this doesn't hurt _at all_! Because I'm awesome!" I declare vehemently, determined not to look like my burns actually do hurt. But actually, they really do... They sting _so_ bad right now...

Canada lets out a loud – for him – laugh behind me, and then the pair of soothing hands falls away from my back and there's a loud thump. I blink and look back over my shoulder to see Canada collapsed on the floor, holding his stomach, and laughing so hard he has tears in his eyes and his glasses are tilted a little bit askew. I frown. I think that thump was the loudest sound he's made yet...

"What the hell, Canada?"

He manages to stop laughing, but it looks a bit like he's finding that a little difficult. "S-sorry," he laughs, "But that was funny..."

"I don't see how," I mutter, a little put out.

Canada gets to his feet and adjusts his glasses. It makes him look all smart and stuff... Which is kind of cute... "It's so easy to tell when you're lying," he teases. "It must hurt an awful lot, eh?"

I frown. "It doesn't!"

"Really?" he asks, smiling innocently, then slaps me on the shoulder.

" _Ow_ ~!" I howl, shoving his hand away. "Okay, it hurts, all right!? You don't have to be so violent!"

Canada pouts. "Sorry," he whispers, then puts more of the cream stuff on my shoulder where he slapped. I crane my neck to look at him, and blink in surprise when I see that he's pouting and his eyes are teary.

Did I just... make Canada _cry_?

My eyes go wide, and I instantly feel sorry. "Uh... Hey, Canada...?"

"What?" he mumbles.

"Don't cry... It's just a sunburn. And I'm sorry I snapped at you..."

He sighs shakily.

"...Okay..."

Canada sneaks his knuckle behind his glasses and wipes away the tears that were threatening to spill over. I reach around awkwardly with my not-being-medicated arm and manage to pat him on the shoulder, and smile when he blinks up at me.

"Thanks, by the way."

He smiles tentatively. "You're welcome."

I sit quietly except for the occasional wince as Canada medicates the remainder of my sunburn. It was _really_ cute, somehow, but... I don't want to make him cry again. I feel horribly cruel for doing that. He's just too quiet, too sweet, too like a little kid or a lady sometimes, to make him cry. I would almost say it hurt to see him cry because it felt that unkind, but that would be un-awesome.

It was pretty un-awesome of me to make him cry, too, though...

"All right, you can put your shirt back on," the quiet country finally declares. He gets off the couch, capping the tube of skin cream stuff.

"But I don't want to~," I whine. "It's more comfortable this way in the heat!"

Canada frowns at me. "You're going to burn."

"But... We're inside," I reply, confused.

He just points at a window and smiles.

"...Not my fault I'm albino," I mutter, and trudge over to New Prussia to find myself a shirt with sleeves and a collar.


	18. Maple

I watch Prussia leave the living room and stare after his retreating back until he turns around a corner and I can't see him anymore. When he's gone, I let out a long, slow, dwindling sigh and curl up on the couch. It's taken so much out of me to deal with hiding that secret from months ago and continue making myself seem like I'm unbothered and like everything's normal.

I still can't prove that it was actually Prussia I ended up kissing that night. Every instinct I have tells me it was him; those eyes, those brilliant red eyes, are too unmistakable. But I refuse to believe I did that entirely of my own free will, and I doubt he was fully aware of what he was doing. He looked pretty hungover the next morning, so I think he was likely really drunk that night. But still... It's worrying how much I still dwell on it, even though that was way back in April, and now it's the last day of June.

I frown. Last day of June... That means it's my birthday tomorrow.

' _Can I still have my yearly ritual with Prussia here_...?' I wonder to myself. I don't know if I want to seem pathetic or stupid to him for something like that, and I pretty much _know_ that's what would happen.

With a frown, I uncurl myself from my position on the couch and walk over to the game system. I pick an older game – Tetris, to be exact – and set it up quickly, wanting something to do with my hands while I think. I settle back into the couch to be comfortable and let myself play the game, not bothering to keep track of my score or the time I've been playing as I progress.

With Prussia here, I know I'll have to scrap at least one aspect of my yearly ritual unless I send him out for the day, which could be dangerous, to him and to others, so I really can't. So I won't be alone, and that upsetting tradition will be broken this year. A hint of a smile comes onto my face as I realize that; it's been hard, having my birthday alone for these past years. Al used to come celebrate it with me, and so did France, but eventually, they just started being too busy, and ended up forgetting every year. Not even my family remembers me properly...

I cut myself off of that train of thought quickly. It isn't good to be depressed that day before my birthday.

Instead, I turn my thoughts back towards how I could manage to pull off the habit I have for my birthday every year with Prussia here. I suppose he could join if he _really_ wanted, but it's really only a one-person activity... Maybe I could-

"Mein Gott, Canada!" I give a start at the sudden voice. "How the hell did you get your score that high!?"

I pause the game quickly, and glance at the score bar shown in the top left corner of the screen. It's over eight thousand... The previous high score, belonging to Prussia, was something in the range of _four_ thousand.

"I-I don't know," I declare. "I wasn't really paying that much attention. I was just thinking about some stuff while I played..."

Prussia sits next to me, garbed now in a light blue button-up shirt. It's nice to see he did as I asked; I don't like to see people be hurt because of their carelessness. "Well, you're pretty awesome at it, anyway," he says. A little embarrassed, my face heats, and I duck my head.

"Thank you...?"

"Nichts zu danken," Prussia declares, and I peek up at him. He grins at me for a moment before speaking again. "When and if you lose this one, do you want to do a two-player challenge?"

I blink, a little startled by the request. "Sure, I guess."

The albino country grins at me. "Can I watch you play until you lose?"

I blush a little. "I guess. It's not very exciting, though."

He shrugs. "I don't care."

I smile shyly and resume my game. I go silent as I play through the endless supply of Tetris blocks, the height of the pile fluctuating as I fight with the randomly selected shape of the blocks to get the right ones. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Prussia sit forwards a little, seeming tense, but I keep myself relaxed and just play the game.

"It's over nine thousand!" Prussia informs me excitedly as I hit that number of points.

"It's not about score," I reply shortly, too busy putting a piece in a complicated place to look over or go into more detail with my retort.

Eventually, though, the blocks all pile up in a way that I can't break down any more lines, and I get a ' _game over_ ' message written in red text across the screen. I stretch my hands out with a wince; they always stiffen up when I play video games, which is why I don't do it very often.

"Wow," Prussia mumbles. "That score is just absolutely insane, Canada."

I look up at the scoreboard, and my eyes widen. Over ten thousand points. "That has to be a fluke," I declare.

"I doubt it! You were so focused it was almost scary."

I just flush a little in embarrassment and type 'CAN' into the scoreboard. If only I were as good at figuring stuff out as I seem to be at Tetris. My life would be so much easier if it were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Old memes are old.


	19. Oresama

The early morning light hits my eyelids and wakes me up like usual, and I groan and turn over in protest. The sun rises so early lately, I can't get enough sleep. It would be logical and smart and stuff to start going to sleep earlier to combat it, but the awesome Prussia is a night owl, and I don't think I could fall asleep before midnight even if I tried to. I'll just have to get opaque curtains or something and keep them closed at night so the morning light can't come into my room and bother me.

After maybe a half hour of lying in bed with my head under the pillow, trying to block out the morning and the wakefulness that comes with it, I drag myself out of bed to find something clean to wear for today. I might as well get up and do something now that I'm awake.

"Come here, green t-shirt, come here," I cajole, digging through my dresser. I can't find it, though, so I settle on a red one with the word "awesome" repeated on it in white to make the outline of a maple leaf. I found it in some store when Canada decided he needed to get me summer clothes for the heat and took me shopping. I didn't like doing all the trying-on he insisted on making me do, but this shirt made trying it on worth it. I _like_ this shirt. Canada looked a little amused when I said this was my favorite of the bunch, though.

After getting a pair of jeans on, I head out of my room and down the hall. I try to be as quiet as possible, because I don't know if Canada is up yet. It would be completely un-awesome to wake up my friend and landlord too early if he wants to sleep in.

Cautiously, I sneak up the stairs to check if he's asleep or not, because if he isn't, then I don't want to waste all of my energy being quiet. His door is closed when I approach. And, on the doorknob, there's a little hanging sign thing. Curious, I sneak up to read the note handwritten onto it.

' _I_ ' _m sleeping in because it_ ' _s my birthday_. _Don_ ' _t wake me up unless the house catches on fire_.'

Blinking, I step back from the door. He never said it was going to be his birthday today... I quickly sneak downstairs again to the kitchen and find the calendar, and peer at it, deep in thought. June is full of X'd out days, so I turn the page up and pin it so that July shows. And, when I check July first, it _does_ have a little red maple leaf sticker on it, and the detail on the day is ' _Canada day_ '.

I frown a little. I kind of want to do something for him now. I mean, he's put me up for almost three months, he's paid for stuff for me without asking me to pay to stay here, he's taken me drinking once, he makes me meals all the time, and he's my _friend_. I should do something. Maybe I could make breakfast for him, since he always does for me. Or maybe I should do some sort of household chores. Or...

I trail off the train of thought, not knowing what else I could do. I can't really buy him anything, since I don't have any money, and I can't take him drinking, because he'd be the one paying. Again, I have no money.

I decide just to try and make breakfast for him, and slip a cookbook off the shelf to see if he has anything labeled as a favorite. There's nothing, though, so with a groan of frustration I put it away and decide _not_ to get something from a cookbook. I'll make something I haven't made since West was little: sausage! I think Canada has some sausage in his freezer; it won't be the same kind as I made for West, for sure, but I can still make it.

With that decided, I hunt around in Canada's freezer until I find a package of sausage. Feeling triumphant, I put everything else back away in the freezer and start looking for a frying pan.

It doesn't take me long to get everything set up, and my secret, _awesome_ cooking skills make the sausage turn out perfectly. I'm tempted to sing while I cook, but I don't want to wake Canada up, so I don't.

Then a realization hits me; I don't know when Canada will be getting up. With a muttered curse, I make a quick, makeshift platter-and-cover type assembly for the sausage and leave it on the table. I get a small piece of paper, and on it I quickly write a short message reading, ' _Breakfast for Canada from the Awesome Prussia_. _I didn_ ' _t think you would want to cook today so I was awesome and did it for you_. _Gute zum Geburtstag_.' Then I remember that Canada does _not_ speak German, so I draw a line through the ' _Gute zum Geburtstag_ ' and write a ' _Happy Birthday_ ' after it. Satisfied with my work, I pad upstairs to see if the birthday country is awake yet. The door is still closed, but I can hear a quiet shuffling sound and a groan from inside, so I guess he's up, however unhappy he might be to be that way.

"Hey, Canada?" I call, not daring to open the door.

"What, Prussia?" is the quiet, muffled reply.

"You like sausage, right?"

A brief silence. "Yeah... Sausage is good... Why...?"

I grin smugly; I'm so awesome. "I was just wondering," I declare, then say, "Oh, and by the way, I saw the sign thing you put on your door. Gute zum Geburtstag." Then I stroll downstairs, grinning to myself.

As I sit down on the couch in the den, I remember _again_ that Canada doesn't speak German. But, oh well. He'll get it from the card, I guess.


	20. Maple

More than a little bit confused by Prussia's seemingly random question about whether I like sausage or not and his comment in German, my curiosity works to drag me up out of bed and into a pair of pants and a shirt. Kumashinno gets underfoot as usual in the mornings, so I sit him on my bed just in case, so I won't step on his paw by accident. He asks who I am again, a question I brush off with a quickly-said, "I'm Canada." Then, once I'm fully dressed and my hair is combed, I head downstairs, carrying Kumaboinky in my arms.

"Prussia?" I call, making my voice as loud as I can get it. If I don't, Prussia never hears me. I think he's half-deaf or something, to be honest, because he's so loud and never hears me properly when I talk at a normal volume at any distance.

"Ja?" he replies, shouting from the den.

I walk that way and pause in the doorway, and a frown slips onto my face. I set Kumafuddle down; he wanders off by himself to who-knows-where. Then, my tone thick with confusion, I ask, "What was all that about sausages and goots earlier?"

Prussia laughs loudly, louder even than Al does, but it's not as smug, and more genuinely amused and cheerful. I can just _tell_ somehow, which is curious, but not really that noteworthy. Dad has always said I'm good at reading the people close to me...

"I said," Prussia finally says, still laughing a little, "Gute zum Geburtstag. Not 'goots'." Then those brilliant red eyes of his turn towards me. "Aren't you going to get breakfast like you normally do?"

I blink, instantly suspicious. "What did you do?" I ask, and frown at him.

The albino country stares back at me with wide eyes. "I didn't do anything! Well, I _did_ do _something_... Oh, just go to the kitchen!" As he talks, Prussia gets up and walks over to me, then for the last sentence, he grips my wrist and shunts me in the direction of the kitchen. I stumble and look back at him over my shoulder as I continue to walk to the kitchen under my own power, confused at his sudden weirdness.

"All right," I reply suspiciously. "I'll go. But if my stove is on fire..." With a warning tone as I trail off, I go through into the kitchen.

Nothing looks out of place when I glance around the small room, except maybe the frying pan in the sink that I thought I washed and put away last night. I blink around for a moment, not seeing anything worth coming into the kitchen for until I look over to the table. Sitting at my place is a plate with an over-turned bowl on top of it and a small paper note tucked under the edge.

Puzzled, I cross the room to the table and sit down. The note is folded, so the curiosity grows, and I pull it out and open it to read the slightly messy words written there.

' _Breakfast for Canada from the Awesome Prussia_. _I didn_ ' _t think you would want to cook today so I was awesome and did it for you_. _Gute zum Geburtstag_. _Happy Birthday_.'

The German words 'Gute zum Geburtstag' are crossed out as if Prussia changed his mind while writing it. The English is scrawled after it in a rushed fashion, like it was an afterthought to include it.

I frown a little, not understanding why Prussia would want to make me breakfast like this. He just doesn't strike me as the kind of person to do this sort of thing. What to do about it... Deciding quickly, I get up out of my chair and head back to the den. Prussia blinks up at me and pauses whatever video game he's playing, looking confused.

"Canada?"

"Um... Thank you for making breakfast, Prussia," I say shyly, smiling a little. "But... Were you just going to go hungry today?"

He looks a bit startled, and then laughs as his stomach growls. "I can come share the sausage, right?"

I laugh a bit. "Yeah, sure," I say.

Prussia leaps up immediately to follow me as I go back to the kitchen, and quickly grabs a couple of plates from the cupboard. I laugh a little at his obvious eagerness as I get a couple of forks.

"You seem a bit excited," I laugh.

"Who wouldn't be!?" Prussia shouts. "It's _sausage_ , and it's made by the awesome me!"

I laugh despite the seeming impossibility to tone down Prussia's over-abundant ego. Unlike Al's ego, which is just annoying most times, Prussia's is really quite funny.

The both of us settle at the table, and we each take the sausage bits that we'll be able to eat. Prussia's plate ends up piled quite a bit higher than mine with the admittedly delicious sausage, which makes me laugh, so I jokingly ask if his stomach is as big as his ego. His smirk-accompanied reply is that it isn't, but that it's almost as big as his 'five meters' is. I drop the topic quickly, blushing a little. Having grown up with France, I never really discriminated against being with any gender, so it's a little embarrassing to talk about that kind of thing.

Prussia and I end up talking about the albino country's latest adventures in the online gaming world – something to do with having been 'headshotted' by one 'fluffybunny' something or other – until the doorbell rings. With a sigh, I get up to go answer it.


	21. Oresama

Canada gets up to get the door, quietly muttering, "I'll be right back." I blink after him and stuff the last few bites of my sausage into my mouth – oh, my wonderful sausage, how I love you so! – and get up to follow him, but pause as I hear three different voices. One, the quietest, is obviously Canada. The second one sounds like a _very_ loud, obnoxious version of Canada, and the third... Is distinctly French.

Frowning, I sneak around the doorway and peek out at the scene in the front hall, which Canada calls the 'foyer'. I was right: standing there with Canada is America, Canada's older brother, if I remember correctly... And _France_. That Scheißkerl... Why is _he_ here?

Then I remember. It's probably the same reason as why I made sausage for Canada this morning. It's his birthday. Of course his family is going to come over to celebrate it with him.

"Hey, um, can I just go tell Prussia you're here? I mean, it isn't like either of you didn't know about him being here..." Quickly, I tune into their conversation. ' _It_ ' _s about me_ , _I_ ' _m allowed_!' I justify to myself.

"What? Bro, why are you still putting him up here?"

"Could there be something _else_ between you~? On hon hon hon hon..."

I wrinkle my nose in disgust at the perverted comment from France, temped to go out there and protest, but Canada beats me to it.

"Of course not! We're friends, and he pays me to stay here." Blinking in surprise, I realize that Canada is lying to his family to justify my stay. I'm not sure what to think of that...

"Are you lying to me, mon chère?"

Canada scoffs. It's a strangely cute sound, considering how quiet it is. "Why would I?"

France seems satisfied, because he tells Canada to go get me. My eyes widening at the prospect of being caught eavesdropping, I back up a bit and make it look like I was just walking to go see who was at the door.

I end up almost running into Canada, and give a yelp in genuine surprise. "Maple," he whimpers, shrinking back instantly. "Sorry, Prussia..."

"Hey, dude, don't scare my brother!" America shouts at me, but I ignore him.

"Es tut mir leid, Canada," I mutter, patting him on the shoulder awkwardly. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see France looking a bit shocked.

"I-it's okay. I'm sorry."

Frowning a little at Canada's sudden relapse into his earlier intense shyness, I decide not to ask him about it, but instead look up at France and America. "You guys here for shy guy here's birthday?"

"Hell yes! We're gonna have a wicked awesome _par_ - _tay_!" America cheers, and I want to smack him in the head for some reason, but I restrain myself.

"Oui, we _are_ here for mon petit Mathieu's birthday," France says, ignoring the now cheering short-haired blond. "I take it you didn't know until this morning?" The Frenchie lifts an eyebrow at me, and I frown in response.

"Ja, right!" I protest. "I've known that Canada Day was today for over a month!" I _did_ know... A while ago... When Canada and I were shopping and everything was done up with Canadiana _everywhere_.

All three countries look a little surprised, Canada not so much as the others. The one who looks the _most_ surprised is America – who does he think I am, some asshole who just takes advantage of everyone?

Then Canada frowns a little at me. "You didn't show any signs of knowing..."

Quickly, I think of a solution. "Well, I had stuff I wanted to do for you today as a surprise present, like the sausage, but then these two showed up." I put on a mock indignant tone to lend realism to the lie. There's a lot of lying going on today... It's not great, but oh well.

Canada looks a little embarrassed, which I take as a good sign. "Oh."

"Anyway, can we go do some partying, dudes?"

I look at America, and so does Canada. "Sure, Al," he says tiredly, then stiffens up. "Uh..."

America – Al? – shrugs. "Meh, he can call me Alfred if he wants," he says. "I mean, you said he's your friend, so I guess he's cool."

"W-well okay," Canada stutters quietly.

"Yup, it's all good, Matt," I say, gleaning from France's earlier comment that Canada's name is probably Matthew. But 'Matt' is a safe just-in-case, because his name might actually be Mathieu. The curly-haired country stares at me for a second, but doesn't say anything. And no one looks at me weirdly for the nickname, so I assume I'm mostly right. "By the way, Alfred, I'm the awesome Gilbert."

France just sighs and rolls his eyes. "And I'm Francis..."

Three other voices, my awesome one included, reply with, "We know, France. _We know_."

This ends up with both Francis and Canada – _Matthew_ – laughing, and Alfred and I both looking at each other with expressions reading, 'Did I _miss_ something?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert is definitely better at winging it than I am.


	22. Maple

Despite the sudden appearance of my brother and dad throwing a kink into my plans, and apparently Prussia's as well, everything seems to be pretty great. The unexpected exchange of names was, of course, unexpected, but I'm not really that surprised. The names had to come out at some point. The ease with which Prussia used a nickname for me, though, leads me to believe that maybe he's trying to convince dad and Al that maybe we're better friends... Or maybe, he just wanted to. I'm guessing, anyway, that he got my name from when dad said it earlier, because I hadn't told him.

With a slight frown, I remind myself that I should be calling him Gilbert now, not Prussia. But the habit is a little hard to break...

I glance between the three others in the den with me. Al, who's playing a videogame against Gilbert, seems to accept that the albino egoist is staying here now. My dad, on the other hand, looks a little upset about it. And Gilbert seems to be using Al as an excuse not to socialize with my dad. I wonder if he's even realized he's doing it.

Confused about the concept of the videogame the two egotistical older brothers are playing, I sneak around the back of the couch to go sit on the loveseat with dad.

"Hey," I say, smiling at him. He smiles back.

"Ah, mon petit Mathieu! I wish you un _bonne fête_ , while those two are busy competing over the size of their egos," he jokes, and I laugh.

"Merci, Papa."

"De rien~."

I smile at him, and then look back to the game Al and Gilbert are playing. I really can't tell what's going on, but they seem to be enjoying themselves, so that's good. I watch for a while, content to laugh at Gilbert's vehement cursing in German as Al outdoes him in the game, and also when Al flips his controller in a rage as Gilbert takes the win again.

"Mathieu..."

Blinking my focus away from the game, I look back to my dad questioningly. "Quoi?"

He frowns pensively and leans forward a little. "C'est seulement que je ne comprends pas comment Gilbert et toi êtes devenus ces bons amis, mon chère," he says.

I blink, then frown a little bit. "Je pense que c'est parce qu'il était solitaire, et... J'ai seulement voulu l'aider. Mais après quelques temps, nous sommes devenus des amis, probablement totallement par hasard..." I pause, and sigh before I continue. "Je seulement aimais ayant un ami..."

"Mais... Pourquoi cet idiot?"

I laugh a little. "Pourquoi étiez- _vous_ l'ami de 'cet idiot', Papa?"

An amused smile works its way onto dad's face at that. "Je blâme l'Espagne."

I chuckle. Apparently, Prussia – no, Gilbert – catches the name, because he pipes up with, "What about Spain?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," dad retorts with a sniff, "since you aren't a part of _Mal Touche_ anymore."

"I'm _not_ fighting you over this on Matt's _birthday_ , so _shut up_ ," Gilbert snaps. Dad just sniffs again and looks away from him.

Basically the entire remainder of the 'party' passes in an upsetting state of stubborn awkwardness. I say farewell to dad and Al at the door at around nine, Gilbert only saying anything to Al, and that being something about videogame skills. After both of my family members have gone, I slump in exhaustion and lean against the wall.

"Merci dieu que c'est fini," I mumble.

Gilbert blinks at me. "Was?"

I sigh. "Having my family over tires me out."

"Ah." Gilbert leans on the wall across from me with his hands behind his head. "But why do you have them so late if it's so tiring?"

"Well," I answer, not quite sure of my reply, "I guess I just miss them most of the time, so I really like to see them when I get the chance."

He grins at me. "That makes sense, but you shouldn't be so lonely. After all, the awesome me is your friend!"

A bit amused, I smile and laugh. "Oh, well, thanks, Pru- Gilbert." A small frown works its way onto my face. "Or do you want me to still call you Prussia?"

Gilbert blinks at me. "You can just call me Gil, if I can keep calling you Matt." He looks a bit thoughtful for a moment. "Your name _is_ Matthew though, right?"

"Yeah," I laugh. "You were _guessing_?"

"Well, France called you 'Mathieu'," he says, his accent hilariously mangling the French pronunciation of my name. "So the awesome me figured it out."

I laugh again. "All right." Then I frown thoughtfully. "So I have this thing I do on my birthday every year..."

Gil looks curious. "Ja?"

"Well... I go out and I just look at the stars..." I frown. "Do you want to join me? As friends? Or is that too boring for you?"

He grins. "Of course I'll join you!"

With a cheerful smile, I head to the porch at the back of the house, and Gil follows. We settle out on chairs on the back porch, and, for the first time ever I think, I've spent my birthday with other people for the entire day. I don't feel quite so lonely now, and that's a very pleasant thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations, since there's a lot of French in this chapter:
> 
>   * _"C'est seulement que je ne comprends pas comment Gilbert et toi êtes devenus ces bons amis, mon chère," = It's just that I don't understand how Gilbert and you became such good friends, my dear._
> _
>   * _"Je pense que c'est parce qu'il était solitaire, et... J'ai seulement voulu l'aider. Mais après quelques temps, nous sommes devenus des amis, probablement totallement par hasard..." / "Je seulement aimais ayant un ami..." = I think it's because he was lonely, and... I just wanted to help. But after a while, we became friends, probably completely by accident... / I just wanted a friend._
> _
>   * _"Mais... Pourquoi cet idiot?" = But... why this idiot?_
> _
>   * _"Pourquoi étiez-vous l'ami de 'cet idiot', Papa?" = Why are _you_ friends with this "idiot", dad?_
> _
>   * _"Je blâme l'Espagne." = I blame Spain._
>   * __"Merci dieu que c'est fini." = Thank god that's over.__
> ____ 



	23. Oresama

_I'm... In the bar I went to with Canada. Blinking around a little at the hazy, grayish tinted surroundings, I step forward and move up to the bar. I can't control what I'm doing, but it's a dream, so I guess that doesn't matter._

_The bartender looks up at me and grins. "What would you like, sir?" he asks, his voice echoing like the voices of everyone else in the room._

_"Beer," I answer, and look around. There's a splash of vibrant red off on the dance floor, so, curious, I get up and walk towards it, my beer forgotten._

_"Gil," calls a soft, echoing voice, and I look around for the speaker._

_"Matt?"_

_"I'm behind you."_

_I turn, and, sure enough, Matthew's right there. "Hallo," I say, confused. When did he get there?_

_Matt smiles at me, looking adorable. "Do you remember? You were drunk, but do you remember?"_

_"Äh? Remember what?" I question, baffled. "What are you talking about?"_

_"That night at the bar..." Matt trails off and lifts his hand to my jaw. Stunned, I don't react. "You don't remember it?"_

_"N-nein...?"_

_Matt pouts at me, looking upset. "Can't you try?"_

_"Äh..." Quickly, I think over what happened that night at the bar, even though I'm not sure why I'm dreaming about this now of all times. I got very drunk, I danced awesomely, I made out with some blonde girl with glasses that got in the way, I passed out, and I probably got dragged home. The events play in my head like a movie as I think of them. "What am I supposed to remember? Did I-"_

_Then Matt cuts me off by standing on his toes and kissing me, lips soft and tasting like maple syrup. My eyes open wide in shock, and..._

I sit bolt upright with one hand clapped over my mouth, eyes wide, and startled and confused beyond all belief by that dream. Since when do I dream about getting kissed by my friends? And what did that dream mean by telling me to 'try and remember'? What am I trying to remember!?

I realize how heavily I'm breathing after a moment of frantic thinking, and try to calm myself down. ' _It_ ' _s just the mid_ - _August humidity_ ,' I reassure myself, ' _and dreams don_ ' _t mean anything anyway_. _I should just get a drink of water and go back to sleep_.'

With that thought, I get up out of bed and walk out to the bathroom. The hall is uncomfortably dark, so I walk a bit slower than I normally do, keeping the fingertips of one hand up against the wall so I don't walk into something by accident. I know my way around the house with ease now, but in the dark, it's a little unnerving how big it is.

Then I run into something.

"Ow!" I yelp, staggering backwards a little. There's a quieter yelp as well, and a shuffling sound.

"Ouch... S-sorry, Gil..."

I blink, and strain to try and see through the darkness, but it proves impossible. "Matt?" For some reason, likely the dream I had, I have to fight to keep my breathing and heart rate normal. Again I ask myself why I would dream of something like that, and again I don't figure out an answer.

"Yeah... I didn't think you would be up..."

"I was just going to the bathroom."

"O-oh... Well, I was going to the kitchen to get a drink because I couldn't sleep..."

I laugh. "That's why I was going to the bathroom."

Matthew laughs. "Well, how about we _both_ go to the kitchen, then? Tap water isn't exactly the greatest."

"Yeah," I mutter. "I guess not."

A second or so later, I hear Matt sigh quietly. "How are we going to manage this without bumping into each other in the dark?"

"Um..." At a loss for ideas, I shrug, even though I know he can't see it. Then I have an idea. "You could go first, and I could put my hand on your shoulder or something."

"Okay," Matt agrees, sounding a little relieved. "But... Where are you?"

After a bit of a struggle, and a rather embarrassing part where Matthew ends up hitting me in the lower stomach with his hand, we manage to locate each other and get on our way to the kitchen.

"You don't have a light switch in this hall, do you?" I complain, fed up with the darkness.

"Not in the middle. Just at the ends," Matt replies. "I'm sorry..."

"Hey, don't apologize. No one broke anything, right?"

"Yeah..."

We manage to get to the kitchen without either of us stubbing a toe, and get the lights on without issue. Matt and I both complain a little when the lights go on, since it hurts to be so bright all of a sudden. Once we're adjusted, though, we both end up having some sort of fruit punch. I'm not sure why, but Matt says it helps him sleep, so I'll try it at least this once.

Something's bugging me though, so I stare at Matthew for a while. "Hey," I finally say, "You're not wearing your glasses."

"Of course not," he laughs. "Not to sleep!"

"You kind of look a little like a girl without them..."

"Hey, no I don't!" he protests. Then it clicks. The dream where Matt kissed me, that blonde girl with the glasses, Matt looking a little like a girl. When I was drunk that time at the bar, _I made out with Matt_.

Mein _Gott_ that's awkward... I'll just not tell him, since he probably doesn't know...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The twist literally everyone saw coming._ (Anyway, I guess Matt is shorter in the dream sequence or something. 15-year-old me must've remembered their heights wrong.)


	24. Maple

"Yo, _Mattie_!"

Blinking, I look up from my book to see an annoyed-looking Al standing above me and frowning down at me. When did he get here?

"Um... Hi, Al," I say awkwardly.

"Mattie, I've been trying to get your attention for _five minutes_! You were totally zoned out, dude!"

I duck my head sheepishly, mark my place, tuck my book under my arm, and stand up. "Sorry, Al..."

"I'll forgive you, because I'm the hero!" he declares.

I give a resigned sigh at that, but don't say anything, letting him get to why he's here.

"So! Guess why I'm here?"

Blinking, I look up at my grinning older brother, who I now notice is carrying a pool noodle and wearing nothing but American-flag swim shorts. The abnormally hot, humid day and the outfit he's wearing makes it almost painfully obvious what he wants.

"You came to use my pool."

"Yup! Your pool is awesome!" Then Al grins at me. "But it's totally cool, bro. I can just let myself in. Go back to your book."

With a frown, I remember the last time I let Al use my pool by himself. Smiling, I do my best to head off a similar disaster. "No, I can finish this later. This weather won't last forever, you know."

"All right, cool, bro!"

Quickly, I tell Al I'll be right out, and not to go into the pool before I get out there. I dash inside right after, and head immediately for the den, the last place I saw Gilbert.

"Hey, Gil!"

Gil looks up at me, away from the fancy cell phone I got him recently so he could do his 'awesome blogging', and blinks. "Ja?"

"Al just showed up clad in pool gear, so I'm going to go change and swim with him for a bit. You want to come?"

The albino frowns. "Won't I just get sunburned again? It sucks when that happens."

"The pool has a sunroof I can pull over it, you know..."

Gil leaps to his feet in a second. "I'll be right out!" he exclaims. "Change fast or I'll beat you!" Then he races off to his room.

Laughing, I run up to my own room to change into a comfortable pair of modest maple-leaf print swim trunks and a red t-shirt. It isn't like I care what my brother and Gil see of my body. I just don't feel comfortable in less.

Just as soon as I'm changed, I leave the room with a hasty instruction to Kumabrumble to behave himself while I'm out swimming. Then I dash downstairs carrying my flag towel. Gilbert reaches the door just before me, wearing a black hoodie and swim shorts and carrying a towel with a print of the flag he used to have that I had made for him at some custom print novelty shop. He just wouldn't stop whining about it before he had it...

"I win!" Gil cries, flinging himself out the door. I chase after with a laugh, making sure I don't forget to close the screen door. Then I race across the lawn to join up with Gil and my brother.

" _To the pool_!" Al cheers loudly, and marches off. Gilbert laughs and follows, and I jog behind them with a grin.

When we get out to the pool, I quickly run over to the sunroof and start trying to get it deployed. Al jogs over and does it for me with a declaration about his 'awesome hero strength', though.

I force myself to ignore it, and thank him. Then I turn to Gil, who's looking up at the transparent and tinted sunroof dubiously. "You can take the hoodie off now," I tell him. "The UV rays don't get through."

"Awesome," he declares, then pulls his hoodie off.

"Whoa, dude, you're totally pale," Al declares, and Gil laughs.

"I'm awesomely albino," he states, and then throws his hoodie onto a pool chair before turning to me. "Hey, Matt, why didn't you tell me about this pool before? There was a whole summer of really hot days, you know!"

I duck my head a little in embarrassment. "Sorry... I just don't normally think about it."

"It's okay," Gil declares, and pats me on the shoulder. "Hey, who do you think is a more awesome swimmer, me or Alfred?"

Blinking, I reply, "I don't know. Why don't you go see about that?"

Gil grins, and then goes off to leap into the pool. "Hey, Alfred!" he shouts. "I bet I'm the better swimmer!"

"What? No way, dude!" Al protests. I laugh and sit on the edge of the pool to dangle my feet in the water as I watch them get into a battle over which of them is better at swimming and diving. I have to admit, they're both good at it, but Gil _does_ look a little better in his dives. I can't tell who's better at the swimming part, though.

Laughing at every failure the two egoists make, which includes a massive and likely painful belly flop from Al, I let myself relax and enjoy myself. Until both of them drag me into the water, shouting that I can't just sit there.

"Hey!" I protest, and splash water at them.

"Oh hell no, bro!" Al shouts, and then splashes a wave of water back at me. Laughing and shouting, the three of us end up in an intense three-way water war.


	25. Oresama

"Ah! Dudes! That's not fair!" Alfred shouts, ducking as Matt and I send a huge joint wave of water at him. "You're getting Texas all wet!"

"All's fair in love and war!" Matt retorts, cupping some water in his hand and throwing it at Alfred. Laughing, I join in the playful barrage.

"Ja, Alfred! And can't the hero stand up for himself?" I tease, and send more water his way.

"Of course I can!" he shouts, and counterattacks with a wave of his own. I put my arms up to shield my face with a grin, but then I hear a rather loud splash next to me. I look over to see Matt having fallen back into the water. With a laugh, I haul the indignant blond country out of the water by the collar of his shirt.

"Wow, Matt, that was really un-awesome," I laugh.

"Al, you're going down!" he shouts, ignoring me, and fights free of my grip to tackle his brother. Alfred yelps, and then both North American blonds go under water.

"Kesesesese~," I laugh, amused because I know Matt won't be able to get _any_ sort of real payback if he isn't even strong enough to withstand a large-ish man-made wave of water.

Proving me right, Matt gets shunted out of the water and stumbles backwards a short moment later. I catch him around the middle so he won't hit his head on the side of the pool, laughing so hard my lungs hurt. Alfred comes out of the water right after and gasps for air.

"Wow, Mattie!" he coughs, rubbing his throat. "I didn't know you were so vicious!"

Matt kind of sags a bit. "Sorry," he mumbles. Since he's stable now, and I'm probably not, I let him go and back off a little to calm my laughter down.

"No problem, dude," Alfred says.

I manage to stop laughing quickly, so in an attempt to cheer Matt up and reassure him of his abilities, I pat him on the shoulder and, still grinning widely, say, "At least you left 'Texas' at the bottom of the pool."

The instant I say that, Alfred flips out, claps his hands to the sides his face, and attempts to tackle Matthew. I yank the smaller blond out of the way, since he's laughing too hard to avoid his enraged brother.

"Go, go, go!" I laugh, pushing Matthew to swim away. "Before your brother gets you!"

He swims, but doesn't get very far, because he's still laughing. He _does_ make it to the pool ladder, though, and then clambers out.

"I'm going to get you, Mattie~!" Alfred calls, sounding more playful now that he's fished his glasses out of the water.

"Oh no you don't! You can't kill my source of pancakes and my friend!" I shout, and wrestle him into the water with a laugh.

"Totally un-cool, dude!" he protests, when he comes up sputtering.

"Hey, getting rid of someone who makes pancakes as awesomely as Matt does is more 'un-cool'," I reply with a shrug. "And the awesome me sticks up for his friends even when they do stupid stuff."

"Hey!" Matt protests, and then something hits me in the head and makes me flinch forward. I blink, surprised.

"Dude!" Alfred laughs, looking elated. "You totally just got beaned in the head with a rubber ducky!"

"Matt!" I complain, then find the ducky and toss it back at him. "Rubber duckies belong in the bath, not the pool!"

Matthew catches the rubber ducky in both hands and pouts. "Well, _I_ don't know why it's here."

' _Mein Gott_ , _he looks so cute right now_...'

I snap myself out of the unwanted, random, awkward thought to say, "Well, I think I'm going to get out of the pool now. Chlorine turns my hair blue, and that's not at all awesome." With that, I climb up out of the pool and walk over to get my hoodie from the pool chair I threw it onto. I would hate to get sunburned again; it really hurt when my skin started peeling after the last one. At least that wasn't until _after_ Matt's birthday...

"Okay... Um, Al, do you want to get out too?" Matthew says softly, and throws the ducky into a bucket at the side of the pool.

"Will you make pancakes if I do?" Alfred says, a tone of stubbornness thick in his voice. I turn my head to see him still standing in the pool, arms crossed, looking defiant.

"Ja, I want pancakes too," I declare, and tuck my hands into my pockets. "Pancakes are awesome!" My hoodie is all wet now... Oh well.

Matt sighs. "Oh, all right. I don't see why not."

With a whoop, Alfred climbs out of the pool. "Totally awesome, bro!" he shouts.

"Why do you both use that word so much?" Matthew asks, looking mentally tired.

Alfred and I just look at each other, expressions reading confusion. ' _What word_?'

Matt sighs. "Oh, let's just go eat." He walks off to the front of the house, and Alfred and I follow with cheers for Matt's awesome pancakes.


	26. Maple

After Al leaves, having eaten far too many pancakes to try and count, I lean against the countertop and sigh. "Gil," I mumble. "Why is my life like this?"

"Like what?" Gil asks, looking up from his last pancake.

"Well," I explain, watching him swirl a piece of pancake around in the syrup with his fork, "my life is full of older brothers who love pancakes and eat a lot."

Gilbert laughs. "Who _wouldn_ ' _t_ love your pancakes and want to eat a lot of them, Matt? They're _awesome_!"

A small smile works its way onto my face. "Thanks for that, I guess."

"Nichts zu danken," he replies, and eats the last bite of his pancake. Then he gets up with his plate and goes to the sink, so I step out of the way, glad that he's still keeping to the few rules I've laid out. "Hey... Matt?"

I blink and look over at him. "Yeah?"

"If you eat enough pancakes, will you start to taste like maple syrup?"

I just stare at him in confusion for a bit. "Where did _that_ come from?"

"Where did what come from?"

"That question!"

Gil shrugs. "I just wondered, and thought it would be awesome to taste like maple syrup." Then he smirks. "The ladies wouldn't be able to keep away."

I smother a laugh with one hand. "Gil, I'm sorry to say, but I don't think many ladies would like that."

"Hey! Don't crush my awesome hopes and dreams like that!" he laughs, and flicks me in the nose.

I give a yelp, more out of surprise than anything else. " _Gilbert whatever_ - _your_ - _last_ - _name_ - _is_ , if you flick me again I'll stop buying maple syrup, I swear!"

"Nein, don't do that!" Gil exclaims, sounding horrified. You can't have pancakes without maple syrup! I wouldn't be able to have any more pancakes!"

"So don't flick me," I tell him with a frown.

"Fine~," he sighs. "But only because I can't live without pancakes."

That makes me laugh and shake my head. Then I look over at him and smile tentatively. "Now I'm actually a little curious... What _is_ your last name, if you don't mind telling me?"

"It's Beilschmidt," he replies, grinning. "My last name is awesome."

"Mine's Williams... It's kind of boring," I sigh.

"Well, it's easier for other people to spell. Not like _B_ - _E_ - _I_ - _L_ - _S_ - _C_ - _H_ - _M_ - _I_ - _D_ - _T_. Those other losers _always_ spell it wrong! It's so un-awesome..."

I laugh. "I'll make sure never to spell your last name wrong," I say. "I don't want to be deemed 'un-awesome'.

He grins and ruffles my hair. "Nein, you wouldn't."

I make a noise of protest and swat his hand away, then search my head for a reason to get him, _literally_ , out of my hair. I don't like it when people mess up my hair; it's _way_ too close to my curl to be ignorable. I really don't want to turn into a blushing, groaning mess in the middle of the kitchen because of a simple accident on Gil's part.

Thinking about my hair, I have a light bulb moment, and so I turn to Gil with a slight frown. "You know, you should probably go take a shower..."

"Huh? What for?" he questions, seeming confused.

"So the chlorine you haven't washed off yet doesn't 'turn your hair blue'..."

It doesn't actually seem that impossible, actually, since his hair is so colorless. I'm not so sure I really want to deal with a freaking-out, blue-haired Gilbert.

The albino in question's eyes widen. "Oh! Right! Ja, I'll go do that," he declares, leaving the kitchen. "I'm taking the downstairs shower!"

"All right, I'm going to use the upstairs one. Green hair isn't any better than blue hair," I joke, then make my way to the upstairs bathroom.

Quickly, I strip down for the quick shower I need and get myself washed off and chlorine-free. There isn't any point in taking longer than a few minutes, so I don't bother with taking a long shower.

As soon as I'm out, I wrap a towel around my waist and make my way to my bedroom to put clean clothes on, and toss my swimming clothes over a drying rack so I can put them in the laundry later without worrying about getting the rest of my laundry wet. Having a laundry hamper full of unpleasantly damp, moldy clothing doesn't exactly sound like a good plan to me.

Once I'm dry and dressed, I make my way downstairs to the den. As I pass by the door to the downstairs bathroom, though, I'm pulled up short by Gil's voice.

"Hey, Mattie!" he shouts. "Are you around?"

"Yes, Gil, I'm right outside the door," I call through the door, puzzled.

"Awesome. Uh... I forgot to get a towel, there are no more clean ones in the cabinet, and I don't want to get the floor all wet to go get one. Could you-"

"Sure thing," I interrupt, and dash upstairs to fetch him a towel. I appreciate that he's being so good about this... I'm sure Al would have just walked out with it all hanging in the breeze, not caring, dripping everywhere, and likely forgotten even to get a towel or something.

So, since I appreciate Gil's efforts so much, I get him a towel and hurry back downstairs to get it to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel this is an appropriate time to mention that by this point, I actually really hate the hair curl nonsense in Hetalia.


	27. Oresama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vague content warning for more of Prussia's ridiculous "five meters" talk than usual.

' _Well_ , _that was awkward_ ,' I think to myself, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Not anywhere below my eyes – I'm too awesome to bother with that. I already know that I'm sexy and awesome; there's no need to check.

There's a knock on the door a few minutes later, so I turn my head to face the door. "Ja?"

"Gil," Matt's quiet voice says, "I brought you a towel. Are you at least a little bit decent?"

I glance down at myself quickly. 'Decent' isn't really the right word. "Nein, but does it matter? We're both guys."

There's a pause. "But-"

"It doesn't matter!" I declare, turning the rest of me to the door. "I'll get the floor all wet if I go over to the door, so can you just open the door and toss me the towel or something... Bitte?"

I hear a quiet sigh. "Okay..."

The door opens, and then the fluffy white towel flies at my face. I blink and catch it as the door shuts with what for Matthew is a slam, and stare at the door. I can hear him breathing heavily on the other side of the wooden portal.

"...Matt?"

"Y-yeah?"

"What the hell are you so worked up about?"

"I grew up with _France_ for a papa!" he exclaims, upset, "so nudity bothers me!"

Blinking, I reply, "I would have thought it would be the other way around..." I had actually thought that he would have a certain amount of secret pervert-ness or something like that because of being France's kid.

"Well it's not!" he retorts indignantly. "It makes me uncomfortable!"

"Well fine," I laugh. "then I guess you don't get to see my awesome five meters!"

There's a thud on the door like a head hitting it. "What makes you think I _want_ to!?" Matt bemoans, his tone of voice irritated.

"Because it's _awesome_ ," I insist, drying myself off with the towel Matt fetched for me. "But whatever."

"Just get dry and put some clothes on," he complains, and I hear his quiet footsteps move off.

Frowning as I dry myself off, I wonder why I bothered to bring that up. Do I _want_ to have him see my five meters for some reason? Or am I just trying to show off? I don't know, and that's completely un-awesome... With a sigh, I wrap the towel around my waist and step out to go to my room.

"Hey Matt," I call, knowing he's in hearing distance if he's gone to the den, "Are you doing laundry tomorrow?"

For some reason, he insisted way back in the beginning he would do laundry for himself _and_ for me. I still find that convenient and hilarious.

"Yeah," is his quietly-called reply, so I grin.

"Danke," I shout, and duck into my awesome room to get dressed. I don't have any clean shirts, though, so with a frown, I just make sure I have a belt so my pants don't slip. I don't need to wear one when I have a shirt on, but something tells me Matt wouldn't appreciate it if my pants slipped. My boxers may be awesome and all – what's _not_ awesome about little birds like Gilbird? – but with that 'nudity bothers me' admission he made, it might not be a good idea if he has something against underwear too. It would be pretty silly, though...

When I have pants on, I stroll into the den and slump down on the couch. "I'm all out of clean shirts," I explain, before he can notice my shirtlessness. Matt blinks up from his book and tints red slightly, then ducks his head back into the pages.

"I'll do the laundry tonight while the electricity cost is lower," he mumbles, and his voice sounds even quieter than usual because of his position. "Can't have you going without a shirt for too long..."

It's only because I've gotten so used to listening for his quiet voice that I can even hear the last part, and I blink. Matt didn't care _before_ when I would go without a shirt.

"Ja, danke," is all I say, though. There's a pause in the conversation as I get up and start the videogame system. I look up at the blond country from the bin with the remote controllers in it after a sudden thought, then ask, "Hey, do you want to play two-player Tetris?"

Matt looks up and smiles at me. "Sure!" he exclaims, and comes over to help me get things set up. The wires get all tangled, though, so it takes us several laughter-filled minutes to get the game up and running. Like usual when we play this, Matt takes player two because it's red, and I get to be player one because I'm awesome. And it's blue, but that's not why. But _not_ like usual, Matt sits a good half foot further away from me this time. I don't ask him about it, and he doesn't explain, but for some unexplained reason, it bothers me.

Matt beats me at Tetris like usual, but this time, I get my score close to his.

"You're getting better, Gil," he laughs. "You'll be the winner soon enough."

"Of course I will!" I exclaim, and reach over to ruffle his hair. "I'm awesome!"

He just makes a noise of protest and swats my hand away, then pouts at me. I laugh and turn back to the game with a challenge:

"If I win this one, will you make pancakes for breakfast tomorrow?"

"Sure," he laughs. "But _only_ if you win. I need to get to the store and buy more syrup soon."

"I'm going to win," I tell him.

But I don't. Which is un-awesome.


	28. Maple

I swear, Gilbert has just kept getting more and more comfortable with _not caring about modesty_. If he wanders through the kitchen without a shirt on again, I don't know what I'm going to do, but it certainly won't be good. I _do_ have some French in me, after all...

These few weeks since the incident with the shower towel have, quite frankly, been embarrassing and hard to deal with. It seems like nearly every other day, Gil manages to lose track of all his shirts, find an excuse not to wear one, or lose his shirt over the course of the day. It's driving me _mad_.

Because whether he's my friend or not doesn't change the fact that he's actually attractive, in a weird, pale sort of way.

Frowning over my thoughts, I stare at the half-empty bottle of maple syrup and tip it to the side a bit, watching as the thick syrup runs slo-o-o-owly to the side and pools in the points of the maple-leaf shaped bottle, making shiny little syrup-falls as it flows.

"Hey... Matt..."

"Yes, Gil?" I ask, not bothering to turn and look at the owner of the voice in the doorway.

"Two things."

"All right, what?" I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder, leaving the maple syrup bottle suspended in the air where it is, and choose to try and ignore this one time that he's decided to be shirtless. _Again_. And just look him in the eye.

"I found another bottle of syrup around the back of the pantry."

I give a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. We're not as low as I thought..." I blink at him as he starts frowning. "What's the second thing?"

"Don't you have a meeting to go to at-" Gil shudders- "Russia's?"

Joining him in the frown, I set the bottle of maple syrup down and turn to face him properly. It takes me herculean levels of effort not to look down. "I guess I do... I don't really want to go..."

"Well why not stay home?" Gil looks a little hopeful.

I shake my head. "I need to know what other countries are getting up to, Gil."

He sighs. "Fine..."

I manage to get packed and out the door without any issues. Kumazunzin is quickly found, my suit goes on right without trying to button itself crooked, and Gil doesn't try to kidnap me to make me stay home like he did that one time when he was sick over the summer. I guess he knows now that that doesn't work.

For the most part, the trip to Russia's place is totally uneventful, besides the kid sitting next to me that keeps asking me what my name is, even after I've told her about seventeen hundred times. At least I'm used to it, and she _is_ younger, so it's excusable.

The meeting itself is boring, too. No one notices when I come in five minutes late, so I guess being invisible has a few perks after all. Still, I wish they had waited for me.

I end up zoning out and resting my head on the table for the entire meeting – well, until just before the end. It's Germany's voice that snaps me out of my bored daze. His accent does it, I guess, because it's a little like Gil's is. Wait, just a moment – what makes that significant?

"...have an announcement to make-"

I blink up to hear the rest of Germany's speech and tear myself out of my thoughts. Something tells me I should be listening to this.

"-about my bruder."

I stare, the muscle of my jaw going slack.

The room is silent while Germany collects himself. Even Italy doesn't say anything.

"If anyone knows where Prussia is, come and talk to me after the meeting. That is all." He looks like he's going to say something else, but he doesn't. Then he sits down.

I just stare blankly at my page of notes, and wait for the last few minutes of the meeting to tick down. ' _Should I go talk to him_?' my thoughts ask. ' _Or should I just not bother_ , _because he won_ ' _t notice me anyway_...'

But as the meeting closes itself down, I find myself on my way over to Germany, who's talking quietly with Italy and looking irritated.

"Mister Germany?" I say hesitantly. He doesn't notice. " _Mister Germany_ ," I say again, more firmly. He blinks at me.

"America-?"

"No," I sigh. "I'm _Canada_."

He looks a little awkward. "Ja, of course. Well, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Well... I know where G- Prussia is..."

He stares at me and looks stunned. "Where?"

I smile awkwardly. "Well... If I know him at all well by now, he's either in my kitchen raiding my fridge, or in the den practicing so he can beat me at Tetris..."

Germany gives me a disbelieving look. " _He_ ' _s staying with you_?"

"Well... Yes..."

Then I realize that this might not have actually been a good idea.


	29. Oresama

Dish washing...

It's so boring...

I sigh as I scrub a pesky bit of something sauce-like off of my plate with a sponge, glad that I thought to roll up my sleeves. The soapy water is splashing all up my forearms from cleaning this stubborn stain.

"So not awesome," I grumble to myself.

Gilbird, perched on the windowsill with Girlbird, replies with a somber, "Peeyo!"

I laugh a little. "Ja..."

I stare out the window as I scrub at the plate, glancing back down every once in a while to see if the stain is gone. It takes a while to disappear, though, so my wrists kind of hurt by the time I'm done. A perverted thought flies into my brain at that, but I brush it off with a laugh.

Then I hear the door open.

Quickly, I drain the sink and dry my hands on the towel that hangs on the cupboard knob, and then walk casually to the front of the house. "Hallo, Matt, welcome home," I say, seeing how tired he looks.

"Salut," he mumbles. I remember that 'salut' means 'hi' in French, so the awesome me doesn't end up being at all confused by the French this time.

"So..." I rub the back of my head awkwardly as Matt hangs up his coat. "How did it go?"

He sighs. "Badly..."

I blink. "How?"

Another sigh. "Your brother... Well..."

I narrow my eyes suspiciously. "What did West do?"

"He's..." Matt mumbles something else after that, but it's too hard to hear clearly. Something about summing tomatoes...?

"Was?"

"He's coming over tomorrow," he repeats, not looking at me. "He wanted to know where you were..."

My eyes go wide again, and I have the sudden desire to hug the blond country standing in front of me and looking so dejected. "Mein Gott... Really?"

"Yeah." Matt looks up at me, soft blue eyes apologetic. "I'm sorry. I should have called to ask you or something."

"Nein, nein, _danke_ ," I say quickly, and pull him into an admittedly awkward man-hug. "I missed my brother. It's hard to believe he's still around without the awesome me there." Then I grin.

Matthew laughs and loosens his tie. For some reason, that little action sends a weird little flicker along my insides that I can't really explain. ' _What the hell is wrong with me_?' I think, while making idle chatter with Matt as we head to the kitchen. I insist on reheating him something for dinner instead of letting him do it, because he looks too tired out not to burn himself or something. ' _Maybe I_ ' _m just having a weird day_. _It would make sense_ ; _I mean_ , I _was a little off this morning_ , _too_.' I frown a little while pouring myself a drink as I think back. For some reason, I had been so reluctant to be left alone. It wasn't that I didn't want to be alone – I still like being by myself. But I didn't want Matt to leave.

I'm definitely just having a weird day. There's no other reasonable explanation.

Matt gets up after dinner and tells me he's going to be in the living room reading. So, still unable to puzzle this weirdness out or get my thoughts off that subject, I go to play videogames in the den. I think this is the place I spend the most time, next to my room and the kitchen.

Eventually, though, I get tired of playing games and wander off to the living room. Maybe Matt knows a book I would like. Maybe reading will calm me down. It's way too early to go to bed, anyway.

As I peek into the living room, my eyebrow goes up in surprise. Matt is sprawled out on the couch on his stomach with his head on one arm, the other arm hanging off the couch and a book looking like it fell from his fingers. Matt's bear – Kumajirou, as the bear himself told me at some point – comes up and hugs my leg, so I blink down at the cute ball of soft, white fur.

"What is it, Kuma?" I ask, crouching down to look at him.

"Blondie fell asleep," he complains – he calls Matthew 'Blondie' when he talks to me, which is kind of cute.

"Matt's just tired," I tell him, and pat his head. "He had a long day at work."

Kuma blinks up at me innocently. "If Blondie goes out all day and works, and you stay home all day and do things like washing dishes, does that make him the daddy and you the mommy?" he asks randomly. I sputter and look at him in confusion.

"Nooo," I say awkwardly, "I'm his friend and his tenant. No one here is a mommy or a daddy."

"Oh," Kuma squeaks. Then he just waddles off. I blink after him, realizing then that my face is a little bit hot.

' _What the hell_!?'

Matt stirs, so I look up and walk over to crouch down next to him. He looks like he's having a nightmare, actually. I frown as I think that, and frown more when he whimpers and clutches his hand into the arm of the couch. He looks so cute and like a little kid... Like West used to be...

Then he wakes up, tears in his eyes, and stares at me. His face slowly gets redder, and I quickly realize I have to do something, so I get up and sit next to him when he sits up. "Hey," I say. "Nightmare?"

"Yeah..."

Awkwardly, I pat him on the shoulder, again wanting to hug him for some reason.


	30. Maple

After I manage to get over my nightmare – I don't remember what it was about, but I _do_ know Al was in it – I head up to my room and get some actual sleep. I wake up in mid-morning, get up like usual, and head down to make breakfast. Something tells me we've gone for long enough without having pancakes, so I set about making some. Gil comes into the kitchen just as I'm finishing up.

"Hallo," he mumbles.

"You're up early," I reply, looking at him. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes with one hand, looking disheveled and like he only got up a couple seconds ago.

"Pancakes..." is his sleepy, one-word answer.

I laugh a little at that and serve him some. "If this is the way to get you up on time, I'll have to make sure I keep that in mind."

Gil laughs tiredly and digs in to his pancakes. I join him as soon as I've dished some out for myself.

"Hey, Matt," Gil says after a while of nearly inhaling his pancakes, "why are there more pancakes than usual?"

"Oh... Because Germany said he was going to be here in the morning, so..."

"Ah." He doesn't make any other comment, just nods to show he gets it.

Then the doorbell rings. "I'll get it," I say automatically, but Gil gets up as well.

"I'm coming with you," he says firmly. I don't want to argue, so I just head to the door and open it.

I glance around the porch, thinking for a moment that it's just a prank ringer, but then I see none other than Germany off to the side, scolding Italy for something.

"West!" Gil calls, and waves. I glance back at him to see a grin plastered on his face.

Germany stops what he's doing and looks up, and then walks up to the porch with Italy following behind. "You're looking well, bruder," he says, looking just a bit awkward.

Italy hugs Gil suddenly, knocking them into the house a few feet. "Big brother Prussia!" he cries. "We missed you!"

I just stand there awkwardly and usher Germany into the house.

"Ah... Hallo, um... Canada," he says, after thinking for a second. I beam at him. He remembered!

"Hi," I reply cheerfully. "Sorry if it's a little too crowded for four people."

After their coats are hung, and after Gil manages to pry Italy off of himself with assurances that he'll be visiting and didn't die – who knows what Italy's thinking – I herd everyone to the kitchen. Well, actually, I have to ask Gil for help with that, but anyway, we all get to kitchen and end up sat down to pancakes. Italy looks a little wary of the syrup at first, but even he ends up enjoying the breakfast. I feel a little embarrassed that everybody loves my cooking so much, but I manage to deflect most of Italy's too-eager, hug-including praise.

After everyone's eaten, though, I know I'm going to be going out to buy more syrup tomorrow.

As breakfast winds down, Germany and Gil start talking to each other in German. I don't particularly mind, knowing that they probably want a little privacy in their discussion, and so I take Italy to the den.

"So, Italy," I say, "you spend a lot of time with Mister Germany?"

"Yes," he replies happily, in that accent of his that's so noticeable to me because it isn't Germanic. I have to pause for a second to realize just how comfortable I am with Gil's accent by now for it to be so normal to my ears. "Mister Germany is so nice..."

Italy then proceeds to tell me a list of things he likes about Germany – and then the French in me kicks in, and I very quickly realize something. "...Italy," I say tentatively, "are you in – do you like Germany?"

The brunet man blushes a little, his previously-closed, golden eyes snapping open to stare at me, wide-eyed. "H-how-?"

"Well, France is my papa, so I understand this kind of thing," I reply, then mumble, "Not that I really ever have the opportunity to put it to use."

"Big brother France!?" Italy yelps. "Wah!"

"Hey, hey, hey," I say quickly, putting my hands on his shoulders to calm him down. "I'm not like him! I just know about love and can talk in French, okay?"

"...Okay..."

I smile at the easily-calmed older country and drop my hands to my sides. "So," I say, fighting to find a topic of discussion to occupy Italy so Gil and his brother can talk, "I heard you're the resident expert on pasta, eh?"

"Sì~! I am! I love pasta~!"

I laugh a little at his genuine enthusiasm. "Well, I try to make it sometimes, and it never really goes too well... Can you give me a couple of hints?"

And then I'm dragged to the kitchen and put through the most extensive lesson on making pasta I'm sure has ever been given to anyone. Gilbert, who's in the kitchen with Germany still, laughs and seems amused. And when I glance back at the younger Germanic brother, I can see a flicker of sympathy in his expression.

Maybe, even though I'm being noticed now, this pasta thing wasn't quite the best of ideas... My ideas lately just seem to all be getting stupider and stupider as I'm getting noticed more. Maybe Gil is rubbing off on me...


	31. Oresama

"Bye, Prussia! Bye, Canada!" Feli cries, waving happily. I guess he really enjoyed his time over here... A little tired, I wave back at him, still thinking absentmindedly about the conversation I had with West. He was upset over having not seen me for so long, apparently, and since I just _don_ ' _t_ want to leave Matt's place, he made me promise to come and visit on Oktoberfest, which I now realize isn't that far off. It's already September now, after all.

I'm _definitely_ looking forward to that. I wonder if I can bring Matt along... But, he might end up in lederhosen, or one of those skirts – I don't remember what they're called, but it would look really silly on him.

Then I pause. ' _That might just be worth it_ ,' I realize, and laugh to myself.

Matt looks up at me in confusion as West and Feliciano drive off. "Gil? What's so funny?"

I chuckle again. "Just a thought," I say. "Hey, did you know that Oktoberfest is coming up soon?"

He blinks. "No... What's that?"

"It's a festival, mostly in Munich now," I declare, "and it's awesome. There's beer, and blaukraut, and weisswurst, and all sorts of good stuff!"

Matt looks a little apprehensive. "So if you're so hyped up over it, you just go and get drunk for a day?"

"Several days," I correct.

Laughing, the blond country pats me on the shoulder. "I wish I could say that sounds nice," he laughs, "but it's not really my idea of fun."

"Aw, come on," I protest playfully. "You would look so awesome in lederhosen!"

Matthew's eyes go wide and his laughter suddenly cuts off. "People actually wear those!?" he hisses, wide-eyed in terror. I fall back against the wall, laughing uproariously. That reaction... It was just too funny...

Eventually, once I've calmed down, Matt and I end up taking a 'leaf-watching walk' for some reason. I only agree to go because I'm bored now that West is gone, and there aren't any new games left in the den.

"Gil," Matt says calmly, as we walk past a gnarled oak tree, "what do you think about, um, homosexuals...?"

I blink at him. "Why are you asking?"

He shrugs. "Oh, because. I just picked up on something when your brother and Italy were visiting."

I nod slowly. "And what would that be?"

He looks a little bit uncomfortable. "I would feel like I'm gossiping if I said," he says. "I just wanted to know what you thought about them."

"Well..." I think for a bit. "I never really had an opinion on it."

"So you think it's normal?"

"Well, ja. Francis used to have boyfriends sometimes, so it's not unfamiliar." Then I blink. "Why, did you find out about Italy's crush on my bruder?"

Matt blushes a little. "Oh, so you knew already..."

I shrug. "West is the only one who doesn't."

"And it doesn't bother you...?"

"Nein," I reply casually. I actually don't really care, to be honest. Feli can make West smile, so whether they end up together or not, they're awesome together as whatever they are, as far as I'm concerned.

"Oh. Well, that's good," Matt says. "Since it came up, I wanted to be sure it didn't bother you. There are quite a few of my citizens who are open about that sort of thing."

I look at him suspiciously. Then I tease, "Why, Matt, are you into guys?"

He blushes. "Does it matter?"

I shrug, mentally remembering the realization I had of the night at the bar. "Just curious."

He sighs. "I don't care which gender a person is." Then he looks up at me. "It's about the personality for me."

I nod. "Okay."

Then Matt grins, looking curious. "So, while we're on this topic, what about you?"

Again, I shrug, though my mind is screaming something I can't understand at me. "I don't know. I've only thought about girls that way, I think."

' _Except for that one time at the bar_ – _or wasn_ ' _t I thinking Matt was a girl anyway_?'

He shrugs as well. "Well, not like it matters too much." Then he laughs, and grins. "I have more options, though."

I laugh as well. "But I'm so awesome all the girls will want me instead," I tease, which starts a playful back-and-forth bantering as we head back to the house and go back inside, into the warmth and out of the wind.

But then shockingly, I catch myself staring at Matt's ass as he bends down to untie his shoe, and quickly pull myself up short. Why would I do that?

Matt straightens up after and smiles, a _pretty_ smile, but then blinks his soft blue eyes after. "You know, I think I should head out to buy more syrup, since we're almost out... I might as well do it while I'm thinking of it..." And he bends down with a sigh to put his shoe back on.

And I find myself thinking that his actions are cute, and I can even go so far as to call them adorable.

Slowly, the uncomfortable realization dawns on me. I think I like Matt. As in, I _like_ him. Like a _girl_. Or maybe not like a girl... Does that mean _I_ ' _m_ into men? Or just Matt? Or am I just curious because of our conversation earlier? Do I actually even like him?

And at that thought, the heavy confusion sets in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more of this I reread, the more glad I am to be orphaning it.


	32. Maple (BEGIN PART 3)

"Whoo! Yay! Oktoberfest!" Gil cheers, collapsing on my couch. "It was so much fun!"

Sighing, I sit down next to him. Getting the excitable albino back from the airport was an exhausting endeavor, and I'm not sure how I survived. He just kept going on and on and _on_ about this 'Oktoberfest' thing, and he wouldn't stop asking about all the Halloween decorations I put up on my house while he was away. And complaining about not being able to help. And asking if I would make him pancakes because he 'just missed my cooking so much'.

"I'm glad to be home though..."

Blinking at the contented, reminiscent tone in his voice, I look over at him. "Home?" I question, with an expression of slight disbelief. "Really?"

"Ja," he declares, looking at me like I'm being stupid. "This is my home now. I can tell for sure because I missed y- this place while I was at Oktoberfest. I kept wondering why my window was in the wrong place, too."

"Oh," I mumble, blushing a little. It's flattering that he thinks of my place as a home.

Gil pats me on the shoulder. "You should have come to Oktoberfest," he tells me suddenly. "It was awesome."

I laugh. "No, I wouldn't have been able to go to that meeting at China's place." Remembering it, I laugh again. "Nobody missed the fact that Germany wasn't there. Italy was so upset... I had to 'protect' him from my papa, and from Russia..." At the comical memory of the curly-haired brunet scrambling over to hide behind me, I fall into a fit of almost giggle-like laughter that I can't control.

Gil laughs loudly. "Really? Did anyone take pictures?"

"Japan did," I reply, trying to hold in another fit of laughter. "And Italy complained about it."

Another loud laugh from Gil. "I don't really remember most of what happened at Oktoberfest," he admits. "I don't ever remember what happens when I'm drunk." He pauses, and looks a little thoughtful – or is it confused? – but I'm cut off of my wondering when he continues. "Well, sometimes. But not usually."

"Right," I laugh, and push the thoughts of what his expression could mean from my mind, since it's not really important. Turning to Gil, I smile, genuinely glad he's back now. "Anyway, I think I want to use up some of my maple syrup..."

Gil just gives a whoop of excitement and dashes to the kitchen. I laugh and follow, pulling things together as soon as I get in. To be honest, I've missed having pancakes as well. It didn't feel right to have any without Gil here, for some reason, so I just didn't make any.

"So how many times did you have pancakes while I was gone?" Gil asks teasingly. I blink in surprise at how similar our trains of thought are.

"I didn't," I reply, and look over at Gil, who's staring at me in disbelief.

" _Really_?"

"Non," I say casually, "I didn't feel like it."

He narrows his eyes. "Canada, the great north and all that, _famous_ for his pancakes and his addiction to maple syrup, _didn't want pancakes_?" He frowns, likely ignoring my blush at being called famous. "What's wrong with you? Are you sick?"

"Non," I repeat, ducking my head a little. "I just like to eat pancakes when you're here. I like sharing them. Eating them alone is... Wrong..."

I don't know why, but saying that only makes me blush more. I turn away to hide it, because it's embarrassing that I'm blushing so hard over something when I don't even really know what that something is. So, I busy myself with making pancakes.

For once, Gil seems actually speechless.

When I have the pancakes made and set plates out for Gil and myself, I've thankfully stopped blushing. Gil digs in like a man starving, making me laugh a little as I eat my own pancakes a whole lot more slowly.

"You have syrup on your chin," I tell him, laughing.

"Do I?" he asks, blinking at me.

"Yeah," I insist, and lean forwards a little to pass him a napkin. He takes it and wipes the syrup off his chin with a frown.

"Well that wasn't awesome..."

"No, no it was not," I reply, and laugh again.

"Hey!" Gil laughs back, and tosses the napkin at me. I just toss it in the garbage with another chuckle.

"Eat up, Gil, your pancakes are getting cold," I say, and get up to put my already cleared plate in the sink and rinse it off.

Gilbert wolfs down the last of his remaining pancake and gets up as well, and walks over to wash his plate in the other side of the sink. "No they're not," he declares.

I just grin and elbow him in the side playfully, ignoring the slight heat rising in my cheeks that I can't explain. I tell myself I'm just a little feverish, because I hadn't really been sleeping well while Gil was away, and I probably caught something. Not that I'll bother telling him. He'll only make some comment about his 'awesome self'.

But when I get a thermometer out later, I'm a perfectly normal temperature... ' _That_ ' _s odd_ ,' I think to myself with a frown, and decide to ignore it. It's nothing to get myself all worked up over; it's only a temperature blip. I continue to tell myself that for the rest of the day, and make myself ignore the niggling thought at the back of my mind.


	33. Oresama

Matt. Keeps. _Blushing_. And it's making me _nuts_. Ever since I realized I like him... I keep finding myself dropping tiny, accidental compliments ever since I got home from Oktoberfest, too, and he doesn't stop going red when I say the most innocent things. Either his mind is stuck on a dirty track for some reason, which I doubt, or he likes me, which is unlikely – because he hasn't exactly been flirting with me, even though I'm super awesome – or he's... I don't have any other ideas. I don't know what's bothering him, I really don't.

And, like the almost ever-present blush he has now, it's _driving me insane_.

I guess it _could_ be that he's just shy about compliments. But I've complimented him before, and he never really had that kind of a reaction... Or did he, and I just didn't notice? Gah... I just don't know...

"Gil? Where did your fangs go?"

I'm snapped out of my thoughts at Matt's questioning. "They're over on the arm of the couch, in their package," I reply, and then close my eyes as he moves to put more of the white makeup he's wielding onto my eyelids. Ja, fangs and makeup. It's the day before Halloween, and Alfred is having a party, which Matt and I were invited to and told to show up for to 'or else'. I'm not worried about what Alfred would do if we didn't come, but I'm really looking forward to scaring some losers with my super awesome costume, so we're going either way.

Today, I'm a vampire. I'm the awesomest vampire ever, even though the costume was Matt's idea. Apparently, it's a good costume for me because of my eyes and skin. I just went with it, because I didn't have many other ideas. I was just going to go as a Teutonic Knight, but Matt said that was lame, since I used to _be_ the Teutonic Knights.

Why Matt decided to make my face even paler than it already is, though, I don't know – he just said something about 'hiding a drunken flush'.

What's funny is that Matt decided to be a cowboy. So, since his costume doesn't have any makeup and because I can't really do it too well in front of a mirror myself, he's helping me with mine. Of course, I let him believe I just didn't want to because it's boring and I don't want to do it.

So Matt is doing my makeup, turning me super white, and making me look like I have blood dripping from the side of my mouth. Honestly, I really want to just tackle him, because he looks _so_ good in his costume. The whole 'I like Matt as more than a friend' thing scares me a little bit, which is un-awesome, but way too true to deny to myself. I just don't understand how or why yet.

"Honestly, Gil, you really need to stop zoning out while I'm talking to you."

"Sorry," I say quickly, frowning. "I'm bored..."

Matt sighs. "Just sit still a little longer. I'm almost done now," he tells me, so I close my eyes with a pout.

An _awesome_ pout.

"Fine."

Matt finishes 'vampire-ing' me a few minutes later, having apparently shaded in black the hollows of my eyes to make them look sunken. Or something.

I get up to go to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror as soon as he says he's done. The level of skill in Matt's makeup job is... well, awesome. I look awesome. There is _no_ way anyone can say I don't have an awesome costume.

"Matt," I declare loudly, "I look awesome."

"Yeah, I guess you do," Matthew calls back. I walk out of the bathroom, poking Matt in the forehead as I pass by him. He laughs lightly and scolds me in French, but all I do is grin back over my shoulder at him and scoop up the package of vampire fangs sitting on the arm of the couch. I rip it open, and then complete my awesome costume by sticking them in my mouth.

"How do I look?" I ask, turning to look at Matt. These fangs don't even give me a lisp – awesome.

The blond cowboy standing in front of me adjusts his hat a little. "I think I wouldn't want to meet you in a dark alley," he says.

I just laugh and walk across the room, over to him. And then I notice something. "Uh, Matt... Just one thing."

He blinks at me. "Hm?"

"Don't you think this-" I tug on his bouncy curl of hair gently- "should be tucked under your hat?" Matt just falls against me, his entire body trembling. I stare down at him in confusion, my eyes wide, my jaw slack. "Uh... Matt?"

"G-Gil," he stutters. "Let go."

"Was?" I tug on his curl again. "What, of this?"

Matt clutches tightly at my shoulders, and I notice he's actually breathing pretty heavily. ' _Wait a second_ – _is his hair like Italy_ ' _s is_?' I think, and my eyes go wide.

Oops...?

"O-oui," Matt whimpers.

I let go of his curl immediately. "Verzeihung! I didn't know!"

"I-it's okay," he stutters, and backs away quickly. His head ducked and his face flushed, he continues with, "Just don't touch it again."

I nod, my eyes still wide. "Ja. Okay."

"Merci... Um, I just have one thing I remembered that I have to do before we go. I'll be down in a minute. You can pack a snack for the car or something, and you should use the bathroom before we leave because it's kind of a long trip..."

And then Matthew dashes away and up the stairs. I stare after him, thinking that he was probably illegally cute just then, when he was clutching at me. And then I mutter irately to myself about what a dummkopf I'm being.


	34. Maple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for vague nsfw mention at the beginning.

I shudder violently and lean up against the shower wall for support as I finish 'riding the elevator of my CN Tower', to put it delicately. It's so embarrassing that Gil managed to do that to me, without even meaning to... And it's the first time just one tug on my curl has given me _that_ kind of a reaction, too... It's so unbelievably humiliating...

I get myself cleaned up and properly dressed again as quickly as possible, and then hurry downstairs, after I grab my wallet. It's both to give me an excuse for being so long – _finding_ the darn thing, even though I actually knew right where it was the whole time – and so that I'll have money for a cab if we end up needing one.

You never know with Al's parties...

"Gil! Are you ready to go?" I shout, as I skid to a stop in the foyer.

"Ja," he replies, and ducks his head out of the kitchen. The rest of him follows suit right after, and he walks up to the front of the house as I'm pulling my boots on.

"Here," I say, handing him a twenty dollar bill. He takes it with a blink of surprise. "If I pass out and we need a cab for some reason, like if Al doesn't let people stay over for the night for some reason, you should have money on you just in case."

Gil nods and tucks the bill into the pockets of the dress pants he's wearing for his costume. "Okay... Wait, if you pass out?"

"Uh... I usually drink a little at Al's parties."

"Oh, okay."

"So we're set then," I declare, and stand up to roll my ankles a little. It's been such a long time since I wore these boots – the last time I did was when the 'wild west' was in vogue. I'm glad I thought to fix the leather back up the day before yesterday, so it's nice and soft.

"Oh mein Gott, Matt, how can you walk in those!?" Gil gasps.

I look up at him with a puzzled expression. "What?"

"They have high heels! How the hell can you walk in them!?"

I laugh. "I _can_ ' _t_ yet. It'll take me a while to get back into the habit. But it won't take that long." Then I frown. "I hope..."

Gil stares at me like I'm an idiot. "If you can't walk in them yet," he says, "then how are you going to get to the car?"

"Carry me?" I joke, and nearly fall over laughing at the startled, confused, and frankly appalled look on his face. "Kidding! I'll just try my hardest not to fall over."

I _do_ manage to get to the car without much trouble, although I _do_ trip. Gil catches me around the waist the one time I trip, which is embarrassing and makes me blush, _especially_ because of the recent hair-curl incident, but it's better than face-planting and breaking my glasses.

"Thanks, Gil," I say awkwardly, before ducking in to sit in the driver's seat of the car.

"No problem."

I try to ignore the fact that he just used a slightly slang-like English term, because it makes a lot of sense that he would pick up on it after being here this long, but it still makes me blink in surprise before I shift the car into reverse and pull out of the driveway. 'No problem' isn't something I expected Gil to say. After I pull carefully out onto the road, I glance over at the excited-looking albino in the passenger seat, and smile as I return my eyes to the road.

"You look eager to get to this," I say.

"Ja," he laughs. "It's a party, with beer I'm guessing, I look awesome, and the seat of this car is comfortable!"

I laugh at that, and take my hat off to rest on my lap so it won't fall over my eyes while I'm driving. "Gil, you have a strange streak."

I see him lean forward a little with his laughter out of the corner of my eye, but don't look directly at him since I am after all still driving. "Maybe," Gil says, "but I'm still awesome."

I just grin and say nothing.

The rest of the drive passes in comfortable silences and small talk about various subjects, and it's really quite nice. I like talking to Gil. I feel like I can be open with him about pretty much anything, for some reason. I guess I trust him, like he were my own brother. Somehow though, it doesn't feel like that, but it's probably because Al is such a weird brother, so since I don't have much else to compare it to, I have to ignore the differences. I don't know what else to call it, after all, since I certainly don't think of him like a father or an uncle. That would be silly.

We finally pull up at Al's place a long while later, and we get out of the car, grabbing the bits of costume we discarded along the drive – my hat and handkerchief, his fangs and gloves. Gil complains about being stiff, and I end up holding onto the car door for balance as I stretch out my legs.

"I'm all stiff too," I say. "Car rides tend to do that."

"Ja..."

"Let's just go inside," I suggest, and Gil quickly agrees. So, laughing over my cautious and slightly shaky steps, we make our way up to the house. Gil rings the bell, and steps back beside me to wait for Al to come open the door. He does a moment later, an ear-to-ear grin plastered across his masked face. He's Captain America... So predictable.

"Dudes! Great costumes! Come on in!"

So, Gilbert and I step across the threshold.

I have to hold in a yelp of shock at the first thing I see.


	35. Oresama

Oh mein Gott...

I must have inhaled something that acts like a laughing drug or something, because the instant I see the bizarre decoration hanging from Alfred's ceiling, and Matt's wide-eyed look of shock and horror, I can't stop laughing. It's so priceless...

"Holy jumpin's," Matt mumbles, staring up at the huge, neon, ballet-clad spider _thing_.

"Dude, do you like it?" Al asks, and I struggle to hear Matt's indignant reply over my laughing.

"Al, that is _the scariest thing_ I have _ever_ seen that isn't in a horror movie!"

That only makes me laugh harder. I can already tell this party is going to be awesome.

When I manage to stop laughing, I leave the brothers to their conversation and wander into the already-full-of-people house's living room and grin as I look around. It's like a madhouse in here, and I make a note to come to all the parties Alfred ever invites me to in the future. In one corner, I see Antonio dressed up as Zorro, having a fake sword duel with a really tipsy England, who's dressed like a pirate. Feli skips past dressed as... A fairy? With tomatoes on his costume...? I'm not sure I want to ask.

" _Mon cher ami_ ~!"

I tilt to the side a little as Francis plows into me, and I blink down at the drunk Frenchman... dressed as a hooker of a policeman, with handcuffs hanging from his belt. That should be illegal. Isn't it?

"Francis, I really don't-"

"Oh, Gil, don't you see, I was stupid, I'm sorry, can't we be friends again, I miss the trio..."

I just stare at him as he hugs me around the waist and stares up at me, then starts giggling.

"You make a _très sexy_ vampire..."

"Whoa, Francis," I say quickly, and push him off a bit, holding him up by his elbows. "I know I look awesome, but I'm not gay or anything, so..."

"I know," he laughs, swaying a little and drinking from the glass of wine he has. "But it was a compliment, non?"

"Äh, ja..." I glance at Francis and realize just how drunk he is – a _lot_ drunk – and assume that he's being sincere in his apology, and realize I probably forgave him a while ago. "Okay, so does that mean Bad Touch is back together?" I can't stop the wide grin from slipping onto my face at that. I really did miss these two.

"Oui~!" Francis laughs, and staggers off to get Toni. I follow, laughing, and with a hand on his shoulder to keep him up, since I'm still sober and he's _clearly_ not. I'll fix my sobriety problem in a bit...

"Hey, Toni!" I shout, and Antonio looks over, dodging a sword thrust from England and sending the drunken blond to the floor in a complaining heap.

"Gil!" he cries, and attacks me into a hug, which ends up with all the three of us, the entire Bad Touch Trio, on a pile on the floor, laughing like there's no tomorrow.

"Toni, calm down! I'm not drunk yet!" I laugh.

"Is Bad Touch back together?"

I blink back at the wide green eyes staring at me. "Ja."

"Woo~!"

I think my common sense just goes right out the door as I pop out my costume fangs and get into the alcohol. It's definitely not the best-tasting beer, that's for sure, but it's enough to get me tipsy at least, and everything goes fuzzy. Suddenly, all of the costumes are way more realistic than before, and my logic is half gone. Francis, who was already drunk by the time I got here somehow, passes out only a little while into the Bad Touch Trio reunion, and Toni goes off to flirt with Romano, their different costumes – a masked bandit and an ancient Roman citizen or something like that – clashing badly. Once I'm left on my own, like what's totally normal for us, I let my eyes wander through the crowd.

Briefly, my gaze focuses on Ukraine's bouncing chest, not at all limited by her angel costume, before moving on to linger on Elizabeta, clothed in leggings and a tunic that are a bit reminiscent of what she used to wear when we were still young countries. But for some reason, none of the ladies in the room – not Taiwan, not Liechtenstein, not Belarus – can hold my attention for more than a passing moment.

What startles me is that, when my gaze lands on Matt, I can't look away. I have no idea what kind of dancing he's doing, and I don't care – I just know that he's really fucking tempting right now.

Before I can try to stop myself, the alcohol overrides my self-restraint and I push through the crowd of dancing countries to make my way over to Matt, and then hug him from behind with a shouted, "Hi!" The music is too loud to talk normally and be able to hear it.

Matthew gives a start, and turns his head to stare at me with confusion in his expression for a moment. "Hey, Gil," he shouts, but I can barely hear it. "Did you-"

I blink at him, unable to hear him at all over the sudden increase in the music volume. "Was?"

"Did. You. Feel. Like. Dancing?" he repeats, louder and more clearly this time.

And somehow, I end up dancing with Matt...


	36. Maple

I don't know why I'm doing this. I really don't.

I haven't known why I'm doing this since I _started_ doing it, almost four whole songs ago.

I shouldn't be dancing with Gil in the first place... But what I _really_ shouldn't be doing is being such a flirt about it like this.

I don't know _why_ I'm grinding on my best friend...

I haven't even had a single drink tonight. And this is Al's house, so not only is this inexcusable in the first place, but he might be really put off by my behavior if he sees this.

Yet, for some reason, as much as I tell myself I should stop, tell myself and Gil off, and figure myself out, I just don't _care_ , either. And I _want_ to keep doing this. I'm not at all uncomfortable with it, either... It feels like something I should remember doing. My mind flashes back to that one trip to the bar, providing me a probable answer, as well as causing my flush of exertion from the dancing to heat my cheeks even more. If this happened last time Gil and I were at a place with alcohol... Then does that mean we're likely to end up kissing again? I'm not sure what to think about that, I'm really not.

But at least, because I'm still sober, I can always – oh my _god_.

My eyes fly wide open, my train of thought flying off a bend, over a cliff, and exploding as it hits the ground as I feel Gil's lips brush up against my neck. It's brief, light, but unmistakable. I thought – didn't Gil say – that one time we talked, he said he'd never thought about men this way! I thought he was _straight_!

Oh my god oh mon dieu oh my god oh mon dieu... He can't... No, that would be impossibly awkward and totally unfeasible. He _can_ ' _t_.

"Gil!" I shout, straining my lungs to be heard over the loud dance music Al has the DJ – seriously, who hires a DJ for a Halloween party? – playing at maximum volume.

"Ja?" is Gil's shouted, just audible reply.

"Stop it, you're drunk!"

"I'm only tipsy!" he retorts. "I know what drunk is, and I'm not! I know what I'm doing!" Then he hiccups. I can tell not because I can hear him, but because his chest is still pressed firmly against my back.

"You're drunk," I insist, not wanting to believe that he actually meant to kiss my neck like that. He can't be in full control if his mental faculties. I mean, he wouldn't be over here dancing with me if he were...

"I am not!"

"Yes you are!"

"Nein!"

"Oui!"

"Shut up, I'm awesome, end of story!"

For some reason, all I can do at that comment is laugh, despite my freaking-out about this entire scene. It's not at all related, at least, it doesn't seem that way. "That proves you're drunk!" I shout at him, and drag myself out of his hold. Suddenly, my back feels really cold...

"What? No! How?"

I turn to face the pouting, stubborn-looking albino, and decide that no, he definitely isn't in full control of himself now. That lets me relax a little, because I really don't know what I would do if he actually did mean to do these things. It would be far beyond confusing, and way past awkward.

"It wasn't related at all."

The song playing starts to dim in volume, fading into a slower, quieter song, and then I can hear better.

"Ja, it was," Gil insists, not shouting as much anymore.

"Look... I can't hear very well," I declare, rubbing my head with my hands. "Can we go somewhere quieter...?"

"Ja, okay."

I'm noticing that he's using a bit more German, actually, and his accent seems to be a bit stronger than it normally is. Maybe that's an effect of the alcohol?

Gil and I make our way through the crowd of countries and head out into the hallway just outside the room. I lean against the wall once we're free of the pounding bass and ear-shredding treble, and rub the sides of my head slowly with the palms of my hands. "Al's parties are always _way_ too loud," I groan.

"Well, I think it's awesome," Gil says, and leans on the wall next to me. I notice that he must have discarded his cape somewhere, and his fangs are gone too. Plus, all the white makeup that was covering his face previously seems to have been rubbed off at some point. So much for all my costuming efforts, it seems.

"Ugh," is all I reply with, and lean my head back against the wall to stare at the wall across from me through closed eyelids. The silence stretches on for several minutes before I hear Gil speak up again.

"Matt..."

"Oui?" I can't be bothered to speak English right now.

"Can I test something?"

I blink my eyes open and stare into the striking crimson ones just inches away. "Uh, Gil, what are you doing-?"

"Mattie..." I stare in confusion at his sudden use of a different nickname for me. "I'm confused." Gilbert pauses. "And that isn't awesome at all."

"Um, what are you confused about?" I stutter, feeling a blush rising to my face at how close he is. I want to keep it down, but I can't. And, to be honest, I'm confused too.

"I think I might like you," Gil says. I just stare back at him, stunned, and totally baffled. And then, he kisses me. I truly _don_ ' _t_ know how to react... But my body kisses back.

"Oh my _god_ – Mattie, what. The. _Fuck_!?"

Quickly, I push Gil off to look with wide, guilty eyes at my brother, standing down the hall and staring back at me, his jaw slack and an expression of total shock on his face.


	37. Oresama

This isn't awesome. This is the complete opposite of awesomeness, and I shouldn't be putting up with this.

' _Why did I do that_?' I wonder to myself, frowning and shifting a little to try and get a bit more comfortable. ' _Why did I have to go and kiss him_?'

Then I sigh, and stare up through the window at the dark night sky.

' _But more importantly_ , _why the_ hell _did Alfred lock me in his_ basement!?'

I continue to stare up at the sky for a while through the one small window in my field of vision before looking around at all the stuff down here. An unplugged and old-looking gaming system, some boxes of things, a ratty old couch that I really don't want to sit on, even though the floor isn't exactly comfortable. Having a dusty ass is about as un-awesome as being locked down in Alfred's basement in the first place is.

I strain my ears against the heavy silence. I used to be able to hear the loud American music up above me, but that quieted down a while ago, so I assume the party is mostly over. The small, red-white-and-blue colored cuckoo clock on the wall chimed something over half an hour ago. I've been down here for way too long, and I'm bored as hell.

I _really_ regret doing something so utterly stupid.

"Ugh," I groan, and tip my head back to stare up at the rafter-like boards in the ceiling. Then I lift my voice into a shout. " _Hey_! Can't someone come get me out of this stupid basement!?"

And surprisingly, there's a very quiet clicking sound, like a key turning in a lock. I scramble to my feet quickly, and stare at the door as it opens, revealing...

Alfred himself, his costume discarded in favor of a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt.

"Dude," he starts, looking very pissed. "You deserve to be down here." He slips into the room and closes the door behind himself. "Because you were hitting on my brother. That's _so_ not cool, dude."

"I wasn't hitting on him," I retort indignantly. "I was-"

"You were _what_?" Alfred demands, and walks over to glare at me, looking down as a result of a small height advantage in his favor. "Did he _say_ you could do that?"

Because I'm awesome, and not intimidated at all, I look back at him with a frown, and don't flinch. "I want to go apologize to him. Let me out of this verdammt basement."

Alfred looks stunned. "Uh, what? Dude," he stutters, his 'cool' composure breaking down.

"I was drunk and didn't realize," I say, not believing for an instant the lies coming out of my own mouth. I _do_ want to apologize to Matt, but I knew exactly what I was doing. But if I don't pretend the opposite, I might never get out of this basement.

"Uh, sure, dude," Alfred says. "Just don't... Don't do it again. You have to be more careful around my bro." Then he steps back and walks over to open the door, and heads up the creaking steps. I follow him up, thinking that maybe he's a little too trusting. It suits me just fine, though.

Alfred leads me to what I recognize as the living room. Matt is sitting on one of two couches and seems to be staring rather blankly and tiredly at the TV screen. I wonder briefly if he's been waiting for me to be let out, but then I push the silly thought aside.

"Hey, Matt?" I say, not letting myself lift my voice to its normal volume. There might be sleeping people in this house. And if Elizabeta is one of them...

Matt looks over and blinks at me, then fumbles beside himself and puts his glasses on. "Hey, Gil," he mumbles. "I guess Al let you out, then... What is it?"

"Äh... I just wanted to..." A bit uncomfortable with the prospect now that I'm here, I walk over to sit next to Matt and turn my head to look at him. "Entschuldigung."

Matt blinks at me obliviously. "What?"

"Sorry..."

His eyes widen a little. Glancing around to see if Alfred is still there, I note with a bit of satisfaction that he isn't.

"I was being a dummkopf. I didn't realize how drunk I was. I don't know what got into me."

It's easier to apologize when Alfred isn't around. Much easier. Am I really that comfortable around Matt now?

The answer is a solid 'ja', I realize. I _am_ that comfortable around Matt. And that's a little worrying. Because, since I think I like him, it's only more evidence towards that.

"Oh, well... I guess we all have our stupidest moments, eh?" Matt says, a small, shy-seeming smile forming on his lips.

"Ja," I laugh. "So, now that that's over and done with, can we go home?"

"I guess we _could_ ," he replies. "But it's nearly four in the morning..."

"Ugh," I groan, and get up to walk to the other couch. "Do you think Alfred will-"

"I already asked if we could stay. He said there was a room upstairs we could use, but..."

"You go. I'll just flop on this weirdly comfortable thing that looks like a demented muffin but is apparently called a couch." And I do just that.

Matt laughs. "Okay, if that's really all right with you, then I will."

"Ja."

Matt nods and starts off towards the stairs. As he's just exiting the room, I lift my head to look at him.

"Gute Nacht, Matt."

Matt turns his head and smiles at me over his shoulder, a trace of awkwardness to it.

"Bonne nuit, Gil."


	38. Maple

He... Apologized.

Just when I had actually come to terms with the fact that he might be at least curious, or _something_ , he basically said it meant absolutely nothing. A drunken mistake...

I sit on the edge of the bed in the spare room I'm using tonight – really, 'this morning' is a better term – and drop my head into my hands. I'm well and truly confused.

_"What were you_ doing _, Matt?" Al had shouted, after Gil was locked in the basement. "He's not even a country-"_

_"Al!" I shouted back. "Does it matter? He was drunk! It was probably an accident!"_

_"Bro, I don't want you going off and-"_

_"Whatever you're worried about, he's my_ friend _, Al! So just stop it!"_

I've never enjoyed fighting with my brother... I wish Papa were awake right now. I'm sure he would know how to deal with this. He would be able to help me figure out what I think about all this.

Because I don't know whether I really am or not, or why I am _if_ I am, but... I think I might actually be crushing on Gil.

"Mon dieu," I groan, falling back against the bed and rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands, pushing my glasses out of the way as I do so. "C'est horrible..." With a small sigh, I take my glasses off and sit back up to place them on the bedside table. Then I set about taking off this tight, sweaty Halloween costume that I'm still wearing for some reason. Minus my pants, shirt, socks, boots, and hat, I lie back down again and tuck myself in under the covers.

This is getting to be too complicated.

I toss and turn for what feels like forever, not managing to fall into the deep sleep I need, only catching very brief glimpses of rest. As daytime approaches, the bright light filters in through the window above the bed, and I squeeze my eyes shut with a groan of complaint.

_"Sorry..."_

_I could only at Gil in shock, my eyes widening a little. Why was he apologizing?_

_"I was being a dummkopf. I didn't realize how drunk I was. I don't know what got into me."_

_I stayed silent for a moment, unable to think of anything to say to that. Did it not really mean anything? Then why on earth did he kiss me in the first place? Eventually, though, I found words that wouldn't give away my confusion. "Oh, well... I guess we all have our stupidest moments, eh?"_

I groan in irritation, the sleeplessness making my head hurt. I doubt I'll be sleeping anyway, since it's hard enough for me get to sleep in the daytime anyways without having a total lack of curtains on the window. So, I get up out of bed and throw the shirt and pants of my costume back on, as well as my glasses, and wander downstairs. When I turn my head to glance into the living room, I catch a glimpse of the pale head of hair tucked between Gil's arms, and walk past quickly. I make my way to Al's kitchen, glancing at a clock as I pass. It's not an unreasonable hour for me to be awake, I assure myself, and I don't think Al would mind too much if I got myself something to drink. With that in mind, I pour a glass of orange juice for myself and sip it quietly, not daring to make more than the faintest of sounds.

"Hey, bro, didn't think you'd be up yet..."

I turn to look at my brother at the tired, mumbling sound of his voice, and give a sheepish smile. "It's just hard to sleep when I'm somewhere other than home," I admit.

"Okay," he replies, and ducks down into his fridge. He reemerges with a box of pizza, sets it on the kitchen table, and pulls out a slice to eat cold. "Want a piece?"

"Sure," I reply, taking the offer gratefully and sitting at the table. "I'm sorry for snapping at you last night..."

Al laughs. "It's okay, bro, I shouldn't have been all up in your business like that," he replies, waving the hand not holding his slice of pizza.

"Well, yeah," I mumble. "But I shouldn't have snapped, either."

"We've both apologized, so it's fine, Mattie," he says dismissively. I just nod and take a bite from my slice of cold pizza. "But..."

I blink at him. "But?"

Al frowns, and sighs a bit. "I know you're bi, Matt, since you grew up with France as your daddy-"

"That's not why, Al!"

"-but do you... Have any kind of, um... Feelings... For Gilbert?"

' _A crush isn't_ ' _feelings_ ',' I tell myself stubbornly, ' _and I_ ' _m not even sure I have one of those anyway_.' I just stare back at Al. "Eh, you know, that really isn't any of your business anyway... But, I don't think so."

"Good," Al declares vehemently. "I'm sure you think he's a great friend, Matt, but I wouldn't want to see you dating him."

I hold in a retort of annoyance at his habits of trying to control my life, and instead reply, "He _is_ a good friend, Al. I think he's a better friend that I've ever had before."

He blinks back at me, then frowns. "What about _me_?"

I let out a laugh. "You're my brother, Al! It's a different category!"

"Oh... Right."

I laugh again at his apparent confusion, feeling like maybe it's all cleared up now. Maybe...


	39. Oresama

"Okay, Gil, there's the GPS, and here's the key. Try not to wreck my car, okay?"

I blink at Matt and cautiously accept the keychain he's holding out to me; a keychain which, oddly enough, only has on it a key, a dangling maple leaf charm, a polar bear charm... and a Prussian eagle charm.

"Why is there a Prussian eagle on here?" I question, as I get into the driver's seat of the vehicle. Matt didn't tell me why he wants _me_ to drive us back home, but because of the bags under his eyes, I think I can guess.

"Uh, well," Matthew says, "I found it somewhere, and I thought it would be nice if I had it. Since, you know, you _do_ live with me, and it's sort of... A peace offering?"

I let out a laugh, checking the dashboard to make sure everything's working right. "Hey, do you mind if I adjust the seat a bit?"

"I've tried," Matt sighs, "But it's stuck. I need to take it to the mechanic at some point soon."

"...Oh."

Once Matt and I are both buckled in, I twist the key in the ignition and get us started on the road home.

"Just remember to stay on the right half of the road," Matt reminds me, "and it's not the Autobahn, so you have to stick to the speed limit." Then he leans back in his seat and closes his eyes. I return my eyes to the road right after looking over to see that.

"Ja, I know," I reply, and quiet down. Matt just looks _really_ tired, so I think I should let him sleep.

Sure enough, when I glance over at the silent blond a moment later, he's already asleep. Smiling a little, I just continue driving, following the instructions in the GPS to get back to the house. It's only a few hours of uneventful driving, and I don't have the heart to wake Matt up to take us into a truck stop, so I just wait it out.

But when we make it home, and I pull the car up into the driveway...

"Hey, Matt," I say, rather loudly, shaking his shoulder a little. "Get up! We're here!"

"Mm?" he mumbles, and blinks his eyes open to stare at me groggily. "You let me fall asleep...?"

"Ja," I reply. "You looked really tired." I unbuckle my seatbelt quickly, and basically spring out of the car. "Head in as quick or slow as you like, but I gotta take a piss!"

I hear Matt laughing as I walk quickly to the house and make for the bathroom.

Once I'm done, I head back out to the foyer and nearly crash into Matt. "Gah," he yelps, and staggers back.

"Sorry," I say quickly, and catch him by the forearms so he doesn't fall over when he trips on the rug.

"Geez," he mutters, adjusting himself. "We're just all kinds of clumsy today, aren't we..."

Part of me knows somehow that he's also referring to the early morning incident at Alfred's party, as well as just now. But I don't mention it, because that would just cause unnecessary awkwardness.

Eventually, Matt and I end up in the den, playing Tetris. It's starting to be easier to compete against him. Laughing and teasing, both of us enjoy the game, but it gets boring really quickly. So, with a sigh, I pause the game and turn to Matt.

"I'm bored."

"Me too," he says, frowning. "Do you think we should look for something else to do?"

"Ja..."

But how we end up in the kitchen, having a cake batter war, I'm not quite sure.

"You have strawberry in your hair!" I laugh, and pitch my spoon – it's a _catapult_ – so that more flies at him.

"Oh no you don't!" Matt cries, laughing and breathless, "Mister chocolate-splotch-face!" And then I have to dodge another chocolate barrage.

"Matt, we're completely covered in batter!" I laugh. "I think we should stop and clean up!"

"You're just saying that because I'm winning," he says, still laughing a little, but stops firing chocolate at me. I get one last tiny flick of strawberry in at him, but then put the bowl in the sink and start cleaning up.

"We're both going to need showers..."

"Oui...

"That was probably really stupid."

"But equally as fun."

"Ja."

Once the kitchen is clean, I dash upstairs to the shower. Matt calls that he'll be in the downstairs one, and then I close the door, shutting out the sound. I make sure to grab all the towels I need before I even get undressed, a habit I've forced myself to get into after that one episode, then strip down and get underwater.

For some reason, as I'm cleaning myself of the splatters of cake batter, I find myself thinking about Matt. And, try as I might to prevent it, my mind inevitably slips to the most filthy track available.

"Sheiβen," I mutter irately, violently cursing my body's reaction to my mental perversion spree. I guess it's proven now... I am definitely attracted to Matt in ways that don't just count as friendly or curious.

This attraction is going to be very awkward to live with.


	40. Maple

Gil has been acting a little distant over the past couple of days, and I'm honestly a bit worried about him. I frown as I think about how exactly he's been acting – he used to bro-hug me spontaneously when he was bored, but I don't think he's done that in days, even though nothing has really been happening here. He's been _quieter_ than usual, too. And I think he's been getting up later, too.

"Matt!"

Think of the devil, and he shall shout–? No, that sounds silly. It seems to work with Gil lately, though.

"Yes, Gil, what is it?" I shout back, turning my head to try and locate which room he might be in.

"Can you bring the phone? I'm in the kitchen!" he calls, sounding a tiny bit panicked.

Panicked? Why?

I blink, and get up off of my place on the couch. Making my way to the kitchen, I snatch up the cordless phone I pass in the hall. When I get to the kitchen, my eyes go as wide as saucers.

"Gil! What did you _do_!?" I shout, my finger already set to dial 9-1-1.

"I cut myself," he complains. I just stare in horror at the blood-soaked towel he's wrapped his hand in tightly, held over the sink. "It doesn't hurt yet but I think I severed the nerves, because it's bleeding a whole lot. I didn't think I should take the pressure off it, so I needed your help..."

"Right," I say, and lift the phone to my ear after I dial the number, taking slow breaths to calm myself.

"Hello, 9-1-1, how may I help you?"

It doesn't take long to get Gil to the hospital and have his hand cleaned and stitched up, which I'm grateful for. I have to wonder what on earth he was doing, since it's the back of his hand that's cut, not the palm, but I keep my questions to myself.

"Ugh," he groans, when we're walking back home. "Why didn't you just drive me? Then we could drive home again! We wouldn't have to walk!" He cradles his injured hand in the other, staring at the bandages covering the medicine-numbed hand. The cut really wasn't that bad, but he had sliced open a vein, so there was a lot more blood than there really should have been, and apparently it really stings. He'll be taking painkillers for the next little while, according to the doctors.

"Traffic," I say, my eyebrows crinkled up in concern. "An ambulance can get through it. We might have gotten stuck at a light. I didn't want you to bleed out, Gil!"

"Oh," he says, and looks up at me. "Danke."

"De rien," I reply automatically, and smile in a way I hope is comforting. He smiles back, and we walk the rest of the way in a comfortable silence.

The first thing Gil does when we get back to the house is attempt to play video games. Worried about the state of his hand – since he _did_ have to get three stitches – I make certain he can't do that. He complains, but I stand firm on the matter: absolutely no intensive activities for his hand until it's healed.

"But _Matt_ ~," he whines.

"But nothing," I manage to say. "We'll see what the doctor says when you go back to see him."

The pout he gives me is almost enough to make me reconsider. Almost.

Within a day, though, Gil is back to doing everything he did before he injured himself. I end up having to drive him to the hospital again to get it fixed when he tears half of his stitches out somehow. I don't think I've ever heard him curse quite so much at one time.

Nothing much happens while Gil is letting his hand heal. I spend a lot of time leaving him to his thoughts, since he keeps on zoning out and just staring at the wall while he listens to German music with his mp3 player hooked up to the speaker in the den. Well, sometimes the songs are in English, but the band is a German one anyway. A couple of times, I walk past to hear him singing along, his voice _much_ higher than the band's main vocalist. The pitch difference makes me laugh a little. He does seem to be kind of good at it, though, despite the difference in his vocal range from all the songs he's singing along to. Something in me is surprised that he can sing so well, but I'm not sure why.

With Gil spending so much time with his music lately, I'm left to my thoughts. And my thoughts keep on going in one particular direction: to the albino sitting in the den and singing along to German music. And finally, I just get tired of being confused, and email my Papa, asking for help with my romance issues. My stomach churns nervously as I hit the 'send' button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's listening to Rammstein, because that's the only German band I listened to at the time I wrote this.


	41. Oresama

The music plays loudly, drowning out my thoughts as I sing along, not caring about the pitch of my voice being so much higher than the lead singer's. "Du hast mich gefragt, und ich hast nicht gesagt–" I sing, then nearly fall out of my chair as the ring of the doorbell interrupts the song. Quickly, I shut my music off and get to my feet, my ears straining to hear whether my friend and crush is going to get it or not, or if I should.

"Gil!" I hear Matt shout from the kitchen, "Can you get that? I'm in the middle of something!"

"Ja! Will do!" I call back, and quickly scuffle to the door, tugging my shirt down over the hemline of my jeans as I do so, so I look a little more presentable. And then I open the door, and just stare.

"Ah, Gil, mon ami! Comment ça va?" Francis beams at me, hands tucked into the pockets of his dress pants.

"Gut," I reply, blinking at him. "Are you here to see Matt?"

"Oui. My little Mathieu invited me over~." Not wanting to be rude, I step aside and let him in, then close the door again. "Mathieu!"

"Ah! Papa! Come in, I'm in the kitchen! Gil, you come too, I'm almost done cooking!"

"Awesome!" I cheer excitedly, and head to the kitchen immediately. Francis laughs and follows, and while he sits down at the table – thankfully not in _my_ spot; I would be really annoyed if I couldn't sit there like usual – I go up behind Matt and peer over his shoulder to see what he's making. "Can I help?" I ask, eager to taste this wonderful creation and wanting it to go faster.

"Plates and cutlery," he replies, laughter in his voice.

"Aw, again? You never let me help you cook." Despite the complaining, though, I set the table with cutlery for three. Francis looks amused, so I just give him my 'shut up, I'm hungry' look and continue putting out the cutlery.

"Well, I'm almost done," is Matt's reply, so I move to stand with the plates in reach of his serving. He never serves at the table; it's just a little quirk of his, I guess.

"Okay..."

Matt laughs a little, probably at my sullen expression.

When he's done cooking, the little curly-haired blond country that really isn't so little serves out the whatever-this-is, but it's probably something French, since Francis compliments him in their flowery little language. I don't care so much what it is, just that it tastes _really good_ like pretty much everything Matt makes. Maybe I'm biased towards his cooking, but still! It's awesome!

Matt gets up to use the bathroom about halfway through the meal, apologizing profusely while Francis and I both tell him it's fine, we'll continue the conversation when he gets back. When he's gone, though, the other Bad Touch member looks to me and says, "You both have changed since you started living together."

I blink at him. "Really?"

"Oui. He does not seem nearly as shy, and you are more helpful, and far less obnoxious."

"Hey!"

"I mean it, Gil, you have influenced each other quite a bit in personality, though both your accents remain."

I poke my fork at my food and stay silent for a moment. "I guess so. I'm still awesome though."

Francis laughs, then grins mischievously at me. "Do tell me, Gil, if you are so 'awesome', how many women have you gotten into bed with you while you have been here?"

My face goes red. "You don't need to know that–"

"My poor Prussian, have you not gotten _any_ in all this time~?"

"Halt die Klappe," I grumble. "I'm not as sex-crazed as you are."

"Hmm," he says, and gives me a knowing look. "Or maybe you have your sights trained on someone~?"

"Nein, there's nobody," I deny, and go back to eating, not wanting to talk about it. My long-standing group member shakes his head, that knowing expression still on his face, and goes back to eating as well.

"You cannot hide these things from me," he whispers, and I look up to retort just as I hear Matt return, and so I shut up immediately.

"Sorry I was gone so long, I had to change the toilet paper roll," Matt apologizes.

"It's fine," I reply, while Francis says presumably the same thing in French.

The meal passes quickly, with me ignoring all – well, most – of Francis' remarks about how much I've eaten. When it's over, I get up and stretch, wince a little as my spine cracks, and then straighten up and fix my shirt. "I'm going to go do something for a bit. You two keep giving each other the 'I want to talk' look, or whatever that look is called. Maybe the name is French or something, I dunno. Anyway. Later," I say, and then head off to the den, put my music on headphones, and lie down on the couch to listen to it for a while.


	42. Maple

"So, Mathieu..."

I swallow nervously, listening to be sure that Gil's in the other room. "Before we start, I just want to say that I want to keep it in English. Quebec is acting up and I don't want to encourage more conflict."

"Of course, mon cher," Papa replies, and smiles at me. "Now, tell me what's wrong."

I take a deep breath to steady myself a little bit. "I think I like someone. As in more than a friend, someone I would date."

The smile on my father's face grows. "And who is that, then?"

My voice gets really quiet when I reply. "Um... It's Gil."

Papa lets out a laugh. "Oh, now this is interesting~," he says. "I'm sorry, but I think I'll stay out of it~."

"But – Papa! I want your advice!" I plead.

"Just do what your heart says you should do, Mathieu. You have French blood in you – you will know what to do." With a smile and more reassurances, Papa turns the topic of conversation to something different that I'm honestly not really paying very much attention to. He leaves a few hours later, with the promise that if I really need his help he'll be there for me. I'm still confused though, and the next couple days don't bring any insight into my problem either.

November drags on slowly, day by day creeping along at a snail's pace. Gil and I get into the routine of feeding the woodstove for more efficient heating, since I have a lot of stacked wood left over from last year. I make a lot of pancakes over the slow course of the month, since it's cold outside and they're warm and tasty and, as Gil always puts it, awesome. I end up reading a lot as well, and Gil spends quite a bit of time listening to music, mostly German, but a fair bit of English as well. It turns out he's been trying to write some lyrics for a few songs as well, which I couldn't read even if I tried given the language they're in. He says they're going to be awesome songs, but I keep seeing him throwing balled up pieces of paper into the trash bin when he doesn't think I'm looking.

As it creeps into the Christmas season, I start paying a little more attention to the decorations set up in all of the retail stores and other miscellaneous public locations.

"It's not even December yet," Gil gripes, as we're out one day picking up various meats and vegetables because we're almost out. "Why do they have to have all of the Christmas stuff out already?"

"They always do," I reply, laughing. "I'm not sure why though."

"It's silly."

The discussion continues as we make our way to the check-out, and then back to the house. Then we end up back in the same routine as the rest of November has been following. The most exciting thing is when I go to a world meeting and get ignored like usual, Gil complains about not being able to go, I tell him that the meetings are really boring anyway, and he says that they would be less boring if he went to them. He tells me he makes everything more awesome – I simply laugh and don't argue.

Briefly, Gil tries learning to play the guitar through the internet, but quits a few days later, declaring the idea 'un-awesome' and a waste of his time.

I almost run out of syrup and we make an emergency shopping run at nine at night.

Overall, life seems pretty boring, and I have plenty of time to think about what I think of Gil. The more I do, the more I'm certain that I'm crushing on him at the very least, and have fallen head-over-heels for him at the furthest extreme. It makes the times when it's just us sitting quietly by the fire and talking about stuff a little awkward, but somehow, I manage to make it work all right.

December begins, and Christmas gets nearer – Gil and I get invited to Al's for American Thanksgiving, an invitation which I politely turn down. Gil whines a little at the fact that we'll be missing out on the 'free turkey', but I point out that it would be a _very_ long drive or an expensive plane ride down there, and that I can always make us something just as filling and good at any time, without having to deal with all of the Americana nonsense Al puts up.

At around the fifteenth of December, I look at the calendar and realize I have to get my butt in gear for the holiday season, and dash out with plans to find presents for everyone and decorations for the house. My Christmas lights died last year, so I get new ones – Gil looks a little bit stunned when I come back with so much in the way of lights, breathing heavily in the cold and grinning like I'm a kid who's just pilfered a chocolate factory and then gotten away with it.

"Welcome to the Christmas season," I tell him, smiling as sweetly as I can. "Can you go get me a ladder from the basement? I want to get these up as quickly as possible."

Gil just nods, eyes slightly wider than usual. "Sure," he says, and makes his way into the house to go do so.


	43. Oresama

Matt seems to have gone completely crazy. Everything is Christmas-themed _all the time_. I'm probably going to end up totally sick of the entire holiday season before the day even arrives.

I've gone out while Matt was super-holiday-shopping a couple of times to pick out presents for everyone – the awesome Prussia doesn't skimp out on buying people little gifts at Christmas time.

I never said they were going to be expensive presents though. Most of them are cards.

I have no idea what to get Matt, though, and I'm pretty tempted to just get him socks or something like that, but that would hardly be something he'd want or need. I want to make sure he knows I appreciate the fact that he's been so friendly to me. I'm really thankful that he gave me a place to stay almost a year ago... I've stayed an awful lot longer than I planned back then though.

I don't think he minds though, honestly. I know I don't.

I sigh and stare at the huge rack of Christmas cards and random baubles and decorations. Matt sent me out to look at Christmas tree garlands and things, and I'm kind of lost in the many aisles of Christmas stuff.

"Hey," I call, to a random clerk I just saw pass by. " _Hey_! I'm _talking_ to you!"

The clerk rushes over. "Ah, sorry! How may I help you?"

"I need Christmas decorations," I tell her. "My landlord-slash-roommate-slash-best friend sent me out to find some and I'm kind of... At a loss. There's too much stuff here!"

The clerk – whose name badge thing reads 'Angela' – laughs a little. "You certainly have quite an accent, huh...? Okay, well, anyways, what kind of house are you and your friend living in?"

"It's a pretty big old house," I say, and she nods, "but I'm _actually_ looking for stuff for the tree. Matt's already decorated the whole house inside and out without my help – crazy winter-lover – except for that tree."

"Okay, right this way then. Christmas tree decorations are right over here." Angela helps me find the particular aisle, and a while later I'm browsing the store again for a gift for Matt, the decorations in my cart. I slouch and steer the cart lazily with my elbows, not caring enough to use my hands and stand up straight like a normal person. An old lady gives me a disapproving glance, but I just grin at her to show that I don't care and she moves on.

I don't find anything good for Matt's present, though, until I hit the winter clothing aisle.

I emerge from the store triumphantly after paying for my purchases and head back to the house. Matt greets me at the door and lets me in, smiling.

"Did you get enough, do you think?"

"Of course!" I declare, and hand him all but one bag. "I think, no, I _know_ we'll have the most awesome tree ever!"

Matt laughs and takes the bags from me, glancing at the last bag in my hands. "Personal purchase?"

"Ja," I say, and kick my boots off. I set the bag down and remove the rest of my winter wear. Matt laughs again and points out that I have hat hair – I protest that no I don't, my hair is just naturally messy, which is awesome because I can get out of brushing it as often because it looks great without doing that. He almost-giggles and then goes to the living room with the bags of Christmas tree decorations I picked up. I tell him I'll be down after I use the washroom real quick, and dart upstairs to do that and hide his present with my journal in my room.

No one but me will ever find it now, unless they have the nerve to rifle through my closet and find the secret drawer in the back of the storage unit in there. And I know Matt wouldn't do that, so I'm safe.

I head down immediately after that and plop down next to Matt, who's struggling with the packaging of a box of snowflake decorations.

"Need some help?"

"Yeah, can you get the scissors from the kitchen for me please?"

"Sure," I tell him, nodding, and go to do so. I come back to find my friend surrounded by strings of tinsel, and nearly double over with laughter. "Wow, Matt, what did you _do_!?"

"The package exploded," he grumbles. "And I'm trying to untangle it but it's hard with only two hands."

It takes us around ten minutes to get all of the tinsel untangled and wrapped around the tree nicely. Matt gives a sigh of relief and we move on to the other decorations. I cut the packages open and Matt hangs them. He tells me we can trade, but I just laugh and tell him I like this part of it. I happen to neglect telling him the fact that I doubt he could get these packages open anyway – I'm using all of my strength to cut through this ridiculously impossible plastic packaging.

He virtually _makes_ me put the star on the tree though, saying that the ladder makes him nervous. I just get up and do it with a laugh, then stand next to him with a grin while we both look at the sparkling tree.

"See?" I say, gesturing towards it with both hands. "I _told_ you we would have the most awesome tree ever!"

"Yeah," Matt agrees, smiling. "It is pretty awesome."

I grin and head to the kitchen, declaring that we need to have hot chocolate now that the tree is up, and I hear Matt follow with a light chuckle.


	44. Maple

"Drive safe!" I call, waving and smiling as my brother waves, rolls up his window, and pulls out of my driveway. I cannot believe how well that Christmas party went over – it ended up being several hours of just _peace_ , instead of the conflicts I had suspected I would end up trying to stop when Gil suggested that we have so many people over. All in all, my house was pretty crowded, and I have never, _ever_ cooked for so many people in my life – North and South Italy, Germany, Papa, Spain, England, Al, and of course Gil and I makes for a very full house – but it was so rewarding I doubt I'll even have to think about it if Gil suggests doing it again next year. That had to have been the best Christmas party ever. I don't even care that it's a whole day early and that Al is having his own tomorrow. Which is technically in about an hour. But who even cares anymore...?

"Matt~," Gil whines next to me, snapping me out of my happy contemplation. "I'm _cold_."

"I'm not," I laugh, and pull my new polar bear hat down over my ears more firmly. "But we can go inside now."

"Yeah," he mumbles in reply and we start to head in to the warmth of the house. "It's because of that hat I bet. I wouldn't blame you, though. It is pretty-"

"It's awesome, eh?" I agree before he can get the word out, which makes him laugh. I pull the door shut after we get inside and stomp to get the snow off my boots before kicking them off and peeling away my winter apparel, but I leave the hat on.

"Gott, you really do love that hat, huh."

"Oui, thank you again for getting it for me," I laugh, and move to sit in the living room, where a fire in the fireplace is the only source of light and the very best source of warmth. I settle myself down by the hearth and smile as Gil joins me a moment later.

"So," he says after a moment, "which was funnier – when West got lost or when Feli corrected Francis?"

I smother a chuckle with one hand. "I honestly think it was funnier when Lovino started shouting in Italian."

"Aw, but he does that all the time! It isn't funny!"

"I thought it was," I insist with a shrug, and Gil chuckles and drops the topic to move onto another. Apparently he plans to listen to all of the music I got him non-stop until he's listened to all of it. That comment makes me blush a little, but the firelight hides it, thankfully.

We chat idly until it's past midnight, and I'm very glad I don't have anything to do on Christmas day.

Gil gets up after a while and announces that he's going to go use the bathroom. I just laugh and think nothing of it – until he shouts from the den a few minutes later.

"Hey, Matt!"

"What?" I ask, getting up and shuffling over, putting a hand over my mouth to smother a yawn caused by the tiredness sitting by the fire this late has given me.

"Why the _hell_ is there mistletoe in the den?"

I stare at him with eyes wider than normal, fully awake again at once. "It _is_ kind of a big tradition," I say slowly, my thoughts racing twice as fast as my words. Oh _maple_ was that ever a bad idea.

Gil frowns at me, and points up at the mistletoe from his position under it, the other hand moving to his hip. "I don't think it's traditional to hang mistletoe when the only people at your house for Christmas are guys."

"I'm bisexual and part French," I retort, rolling my eyes and crossing my arms.

"But why is this _here_ , Matt!? Were you trying to match-make or something?"

"No," I reply, my voice going quieter. "Not exactly."

"...Then _why_ did you hang mistletoe?"

"B-because there's someone I was hoping to get a kiss from," I blurt out, and then promptly clap my hands over my mouth, my face heating up. Gil blinks at me in surprise.

"Who?" he asks, and I can't name the emotion that appears briefly in his voice and expression.

"I-I don't want to tell you..."

"Mattie... I think I might have a right to know who my _best friend_ is crushing on."

The stress he puts on the words 'best friend' cut deep, even though I know he doesn't mean them to. "Yeah, well, I think _I_ have a right to some privacy on it..."

Gil scowls a bit. "Mattie," he says sternly, and I hunch my shoulders a little. "The awesome me is asking you a question and avoiding the answer is _not awesome at all_."

"Fine!" I snap, marching up to him. "You want to know who it is?"

The albino stares at me with wide eyes. "Matt," he says to me, "you just stepped under the mistletoe..."

"Yeah. I know. With you." I clench my hands into fists at my sides and squeeze my eyes shut. "You don't have to kiss me or anything just 'cause of a silly white berry on the ceiling, but I do like you, Gil. A lot."

"W-was?" Gil lets out a stream of German cursing, and I duck my head. "I... Fuck, Mattie! You could have told me that _ages_ ago!"

I blink up at him cautiously. "...Quoi?"

And then suddenly I can't speak. Not because of any lack of words, but because _Gil is kissing me_ , and it's soft and gentle and _nothing_ like the last couple of times, which I quickly decide don't count.

I'm too startled to move.

A moment later he pulls away and drops his hands gently from the sides of my jaw to my shoulders. "O-oh," I manage to get out, eyes wide.

"Merry Christmas, Mattie," Gil mumbles, and hugs me tightly.

"Bonne Noël, Gil," I reply, still dazed, and I awkwardly hug him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally.


	45. Oresama

I smash my head into the keyboard in my irritation and groan, ignoring it when the computer beeps at me for hitting a 'wrong' key combination with my face. "Shut up," I mutter, annoyed, and sit up. I delete the long line of 'ggg' that my face-to-keyboard-ing has created, and continue my email where I left off.

_francis,_

_hallo! it's the awesome gilbert, but you already know that. i just wanted to let you know about some stuff that i think is awesome but you might not and i need to know your opinion on it so ja. i'm going to cut to the chase here because beating around the bush is really unawesome._

_i'm dating mattie now and i have been since christmas._

_please don't kill me,_

_– the awesome gilbert_

It takes all of my willpower to hit send, even after I've reread the email over ten times and edited the hell out of it so I'm sure it sounds okay. I stare at my inbox for around ten minutes, just blinking and waiting, before I decide to go do something in another tab while I wait for Francis to email me back. I really need his approval if I'm going to get serious with Matt, for so many reasons – he's both Matt's 'papa' and one of my best friends, he understands this sort of stuff better than anyone I know, and... Well that's all of it but it's still some really important stuff.

The article I'm reading is suddenly interrupted by the chime of anew email, and I click the tab with my inbox in it immediately. I spend several minutes just staring at the new email.

_Re_ : _hey francis_.

I eventually convince myself that the worst Francis can possibly do is be displeased with me, and open the email. I skim over the text quickly, not breathing, and then read it again slowly.

_Gilbert,_

_I have known for some time that this would happen. I am upset that you or Mathieu did not tell me sooner, but I am happy for you both~. Good luck telling everyone else though, mon ami~. ;)_

_~Francis~_

"Gah!" I snap at myself, bashing my forehead into the keyboard again. I should have _known_ that he would know!

"Gil?" I lift my head and turn to look at Matt as he enters the room. "Why are you beating yourself up with the keyboard?"

"See for yourself," I grumble, and shift the spinny-chair out a bit while I use the lever to drop it a little. Matt sits on my lap and I hug him from behind with my chin on his shoulder as he reads the email from Francis, and watch with a fair amount of amusement as he slowly tints the color of the leaf on his flag.

"Oh... So that's why..."

I blink at him. "That's why what?"

"Um... I asked him for some help with figuring out my feelings before Christmas... He was kind of evasive about it and I think it's because he already knew all of this would happen."

"I wouldn't put it past him," I mutter. "So, um... Do you think we should tell everyone else now? Putting it off wouldn't be awesome."

"Yeah..." Mattie gets up off my lap and wanders down the stairs and to the hallway phone, and I follow him. "Can you stay here while I call Alfred...?"

"Ja, sure Mattie," I reply, and slip my hand into his. He smiles and dials the phone with the other hand.

"Hello, Al?" A pause. "Yeah, it's Matt. I have something I need to tell you..." More silence. I squeeze his hand. "I'm, um, I'm dating Gil."

Then the phone basically explodes, Alfred's shouting so loud that I can't even _try_ to understand him over the static-drowned phone line. Matt holds it away from himself with a wince, and I grab it out of his hand.

" _Hey_!" I snap into the phone. "Will you shut up!?"

Matt just tugs the phone out of my hand again as Alfred can be heard shouting death threats at me. "Al!" he whines. "Stop shouting!"

The loud-mouthed country goes quiet. Matt puts the phone back to his ear again and explains that it was him that started this and that I'm apparently being a perfect gentleman. I just grin at him and mouth that it's more like I'm being awesome; he pokes me in the forehead with the smile that means he's holding in laughter.

Matt hangs up a few minutes later, after stressing some things and reassuring Alfred that I'm not forcing him into this or some shit. I'm a little peeved that he distrusts me that much – I thought we were kind of like bros. Maybe he's just shocked.

"Here."

I realize Matt is giving me the phone. "Um..."

"Call Ludwig."

I sigh. "Not awesome Matt, I already got my poor ears screamed off..." I dial anyway though.

" _Hallo_?"

"Hey, West."

" _Bruder_? _Why are you calling so late_?" my brother groans.

"Matt wanted me to tell you that I'm dating him. 'Cause I kinda am."

There's a moment of silence. " _Oh_. _Be good_. _Now let me sleep_..." Then I hear a click, hang up the phone, and turn to Matt.

"I don't think he cares, too tired to give a shit. He was asleep before I called," I tell him, rolling my eyes.

Matt laughs and slips his hand into mine. "I really want to go out for a drink all of a sudden..."

I just grin and squeeze his hand. "Awesome."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timezones are a thing, you guys.


	46. Maple

"Bartender!" I call, waving a little. The man behind the counter smiles and walks over to Gil and I, and sets an empty cup down on the polished wood surface.

"Yes, Mr. Williams?"

"I keep telling you to call me Matthew," I groan, and smack my head against the counter.

"Just the usual," Gil laughs, and tugs me up off of the counter and into a hug. "Relax, Mattie," he says, as the bartender walks away to get our drinks. "He's just being formal."

"Still," I sigh. "It's nice to _not_ be formal every once in a while."

"The meetings getting to you?"

"Mhm." I nuzzle my face into Gil's neck and sigh. We've been going out at least twice a week for the month or so, and the bartender has gotten to start remembering me, partly because of how outgoing my boyfriend is. I've been enjoying the extra recognition, but on the other hand, the other countries are noticing me more and wanting me to give my opinion at meetings and sometimes it's just way too stressful.

"You don't have to be formal at home," Gil laughs. "I'm not gonna make you be all stuffy and shit on your days off, you know."

"I know," I laugh, "But still."

Our drinks arrive and, though I'm sure Gil wants to get totally hammered and party like an animal like he usually does, I convince him to socialize for a little. I let him go after a while though, because I know he enjoys it and he needs to learn to regulate his own behavior without my interference. It's not all that likely, but I can always hope.

I do join him though. I'm fairly certain that my behavior, Gil's behavior, and our behavior together earns us some looks but I can't bring myself to care; it's just too fun dancing and singing and, well, kissing Gil in the corner of the room. It's nice to be appreciated and it's nice to just let myself have fun.

In the morning though, I hurt basically everywhere.

"Ugh," I groan, and roll over. I promptly fall out of bed and hit my already aching head on the floor, which makes me curse heavily in both English and French before I have to get up and run to the bathroom to throw up.

I sink to the tile floor with a groan and cradle my head in my hands to try and muffle the painful throbbing of the hangover I really should have expected. After some time, spent throwing up some more and then getting down a few pills to help with my headache and nausea, I wander downstairs. Gil is already in the kitchen when I get there, his head against the table and a cup of water next to him.

"Hey," I mumble.

"Mng," is the only response I get out of him. I shake my head a little and laugh just a bit, then go to the cupboards to find a frying pan, spatula, and the things for making pancakes. It's become almost a tradition that when Gil and I are hung over I make us up some pancakes and then he comes to help around when I start measuring things into bowls.

The event happens as per the usual, with Gil doing the mixing and me being the 'kitchen maestro', as one certain albino has called me before. We end up piling the pancakes up to around twice the normal amount we can eat in the fun of cooking them; I decide to put them in the fridge to warm up again for a snack later, and Gil and I sit ourselves down at the table to eat.

"Have I mentioned that getting a hangover is worth it for this?" Gil asks me, and grins brightly before shoving another forkful into his mouth.

I nod. "Mhm~." I swallow my own mouthful of mapley goodness before I let myself reply in words. "You have. It wouldn't be without hangover-recovery pills though."

"That's true..."

Smiling and laughing, Gilbert and I eat the rest of our breakfast with an overall happy and cheerful mood in the air. Once when I have a bit of syrup on the corner of my mouth Gil leans across the small table and licks it off, which makes me blush, but I get back at him in a similar situation – although I do end up in his lap with my face as red as my flag.

"You look so adorable when you blush," Gil laughs, and I just go back to my own chair in a huff while he laughs some more.

After we've finished eating and cleaned up, Gilbert and I head to the den and curl up on the couch to watch a movie with the volume low and the curtains pulled over the windows to keep the light out. I smile and lean my head on his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around me. The movie starts, and I snuggle up to my boyfriend with a smile and look up at him. He kisses me a couple of times before hitting play.

I most definitely feel like I've found a happy ending.

No, scratch that – it's an _awesome_ ending, and no one can persuade me otherwise.


	47. Epilogue: L'amour

_Crooning over adorable little baby Amelia, I can't help but be glad that Gilbert and my little Mathieu got together like this. They look so happy now, both of them. It's easy to look at them and tell they're completely and utterly in love. They're almost always with each other, and when they aren't, both tend to stare into space and look a little lonely if you leave them alone too long, though Gil denies being 'so un-awesomely sentimental', and Mathieu looks a little bit embarrassed when it's brought up. No one bothers to ask what they're thinking of, since it's obvious by the love-struck expressions the two of them always wear now. And when they're together, they just look so happy._

_And there are other ways to tell just how close they are now, too. Even when Gilbert was given a chance recently to start again as a micro-nation in Europe, the 'New Prussian Empire', he stayed with Mathieu without a second thought. Oh, he_ did _take the opportunity to be a country again, of course. That much at least hasn't changed. But he's turned the little place into somewhat of a summer home as opposed to a full-time residence._

_"Papa!"_

_With a smile, I look up as Mathieu walks over to me, hand-in-hand with the country who gave him the delicate gold ring he wears now. Gilbert grins as they approach._

_"Hey, Francey-pants!" he teases._

_"Don't call me that!" I call, pretending to be indignant. Matheiu laughs a little and walks over, then scoops Amelia out of my arms._

_"Salut, Papa," he says, his voice quiet as usual and his lips curved into a smile. Careful not to squash the little ball of adorableness in his arms, I get up out of the garden swing and hug him._

_"Hey," Gilbert protests, "Where's_ my _hug?"_

_Mathieu smiles, then leans up and, instead of hugging him, gives him a peck on the cheek. An amused smile tugs at the corners of my mouth at the very red flush now creeping across Gil's face._

_Life seems to be much better now than it was before Gil arrived at Mathieu's house. Mathieu and Gil, of course, are happily married now, and they've adopted cute little Amelia. She's so sweet, and somehow looks like the both of them even though they aren't related. And, since Mathieu and Gil got together, many other countries have been 'coming out of the closet' to be open with their relationships. Even my own beautiful partner has finally allowed me to be open about our togetherness._

_Looking at the smiling family of three, I think to myself, '_ I couldn _'_ t wish for a better life for them if I tried _.'_

* * *

**FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> France's lover is intentionally left up to the reader to decide.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Finally! I'm so glad to finally be free of this fic. Seven years is a long time for something like this to hang around, especially after you've fallen way out of love with the source material...
> 
> It's been a time, y'all. Be excellent to each other. (Waves!)


End file.
